


Set These Fires (Just For You)

by LadySmutterella



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: BDSM, Breathplay, Breeding, Enemas, Gender Identity, Genderplay, Humiliation, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Puppy Play, Sibling Incest, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 108,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8877844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySmutterella/pseuds/LadySmutterella
Summary: Gerard's always known that the sex Mikey has with Frank is different to the sex Mikey has with him - their bedrooms share a wall, after all, and Mikey's never been the quiet type. But something's been extra different lately, and Gerard can't quite figure out what.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jiksa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiksa/gifts).



> This fic features pretty heavy kink exploration in a poly configuration, variously successful negotiation and occasionally distressing misunderstandings between the three parties involved. This includes, but is not limited to, sexualized humiliation, pet/puppy play, breeding, genderplay, cross-dressing, breathplay, impact play, enema administration, orgasm control/denial, takedown play and unsafe sex. Features someone using sexual and non-sexual kink to work through issues relating to mental health, issues at work and their gender identity, as well as references to woodwork written by someone who knows nothing about it.

“Mikey.” Frank’s voice is harsh, all edge and tightly controlled frustration. “Sit.”

Gerard freezes, the front door still open in his hand, momentarily unsure what he should do.

It isn't the first time he's walked in on whatever weird kinky sex stuff they do with each other, and he should pull his usual disappearing act and sneak back out before they realize they've been overheard. But they're in the fucking living room and he's been traveling all day and just wants a hot shower and to change into a pair of worn-in sweatpants. There's no way he can make it through the hallway and up the stairs to his bedroom without them realizing he's home, though 

In the end, exhaustion wins out and he lets the door slam. 

“Dudes?” He raises his voice loud enough that he knows they can hear him. “I’m home. You doing okay?

There’s silence from the living room, then a cleared throat and some clumsy shuffling before Frank emerges, his cheeks a bit pinker than normal, but otherwise just his usual self – nothing Gerard wouldn’t expect to see in his roommate, in his brother’s other boyfriend. 

“Gee.” He claps Gerard on his shoulder, shuffles his feet. “We thought you were in LA until tomorrow.” He seems to realize how the words sound and winces. “But it’s good you’re home.”

It makes Gerard snigger. “You’re a douche,” he says. “And you make me sad I finished my meetings early and came home.”

Frank shakes his head, fond and relieved all at once. “Yeah, it’s such an _inconvenience_ ,” he says. “I mean, it’s not like this is your house or anything.”

“Our house,” Gerard says, because they’ve had this conversation before, and just because his career has been more successful than Frank’s and Mikey’s doesn’t mean they should feel like they’re lodgers in their own home. 

“Our house,” Frank agrees, even if Gerard can’t tell how much he believes the words. “It’s just we…”

“Are having kinky sex in our living room?” Gerard finishes, eyebrow raised. “Frankie, I know my brother and I know you. Of course you are.” 

Frank looks like he’s going to disagree, like he has something he wants to say, but then he shrugs. “You know how it is.”

Gerard nods. He does. His bedroom is next to Frank’s and on the alternate nights when Mikey’s in with Frank, he is _very_ aware of how it is. 

“’s fine,” he says. “I’ll… um. Go and unpack?” 

“Great.” Frank’s smile is wide and warm and Gerard’s stomach swoops in a way he doesn’t care to examine too closely. “Give us half an hour and we’ll pick up some takeaway? Watch a DVD?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard says, mentally giving them at least an hour. “Give me a shout when you’re… done.” 

He shuffles off to his room, doing his best not to imagine what they’re doing right now. 

He’s indifferently successful, and the sketches he comes up with are relegated to his private collection. The one he hides under his bed. 

And when, ninety minutes later, Mikey knocks on the door of his room, slightly shamefaced and with a row of bruises bitten onto his neck, Gerard doesn’t think twice about hugging him, even though he smells of sex and sweat.

“Mikes,” he says, and Mikey kisses him, gentle and tender and _his_. “You okay?”

Mikey nods, and despite the slight tension to his posture, the one that speaks of bruises that Gerard will uncover next time he takes Mikey to bed, he pushes into Gerard’s hold, until Gerard is steering him almost bodily back downstairs to the living room. 

It’s familiar and comfortable and it’s _home_.

“So,” he says, pushing Mikey down onto the sofa next to Frank and digging through the debris by the TV for a menu. “Pizza or Thai?”

—

“You gonna sleep with Gee tonight?” Frank asks later when the last of the pad thai has been disposed off and they’re in a sleepy, replete heap on the sofa. 

The question makes Gerard strain to try and see him, but his face is open, his voice innocent of anything but enquiry. He notices Gerard looking though, and his mouth twists. 

“You’ve been away all week,” he says. “I’m not a total dick.”

Mikey sniggers from his place curled into Gerard’s side and Frank reaches over and flicks his nose. 

“If you’re okay with that,” Gerard says, careful of his words, his expression. “It’s your night together and I don’t…”

“Fuck’s sake.” Frank sounds more amused than irritated, and Gerard relaxes again. “I’ve had all week with him.” He ruffles Mikey’s hair. “He missed you.”

“Yeah?” Gerard raises an eyebrow and Mikey nods, his face carefully neutral. 

“Yeah,” Frank says and skims the back of his knuckles down Mikey’s cheek. “He _pined_.”

“Don’t,” Mikey says, sitting up and glaring at Frank. “Just…” 

“No need to be snappy.” Frank holds his hands up, all faux innocence and inside jokes that Gerard doesn’t get. “I just thought you guys would appreciate some time together.”

“We would,” Gerard says. “Thanks, dude.” 

Frank grins and settles back down next to Mikey, and Gerard relaxes properly, feels Frank’s shoulder pressing against his hand where it’s wrapped around Mikey. 

_It’s good to be home_ he thinks, and Mikey presses closer, making a wordless noise of enjoyment. 

He wishes, sometimes, that it could be the three of them together, but the one time they’d tried it had been a shambolic, drunken failure that had left Gerard with a black eye and set back his friendship with Frank by months. It wasn’t worth the stress, he’d decided, so when they head to bed, Frank kisses Mikey goodnight outside Gerard’s room, nods to Gerard and turns away.

“’s’good to have you home,” he says, his back to Gerard and Mikey now. “It’s not the same without you.”

He slips into his room without waiting for a response, leaving Mikey to pull Gerard into his room. 

And it is so good to be back, to be naked and warm and pressed as close to Mikey as he can get. 

“What was that about?” he asks a bit later when he has one hand tight on Mikey’s hip, the other stroking excruciatingly slowly along his cock. 

“Think he missed you too.” Mikey’s voice is thready. He’s sweat covered and straining against Gerard’s grip, but Gerard _has_ him, won’t let him go that easily. 

“What happened while I was away?” He lets go of Mikey’s hip, runs his hand over his chest instead, nuzzles his face into Mikey’s neck. 

“Work was shit,” Mikey says, and Gerard fights to stay still, because there are moments that Mikey _hates_ his job, when it gets on top of him, makes him feel worthless, and there’s nothing that Gerard can say – nothing that Frank can say – that can make Mikey understand that he is worth so much more than some two-bit admin role, doing thankless tasks for the perpetually fuckwitted. 

“Right,” Gerard says instead, because now is not the time to say the things he wants to. “How did it go?”

“You know.” Mikey’s voice is tight and Gerard grazes his teeth down the tendon in Mikey’s neck as he pinches his nipple hard enough that Mikey hisses. 

“And?”

“I may not have handled it well.” The words are small, like a confession. Gerard hums, lightens his hold on Mikey’s cock, smiles at the disappointed noise Mikey makes. 

“And Frank helped?”

“It’s a lot to cope with,” Mikey says, and Gerard nods, because it is. It is, and it normally takes the two of them together, tag-teaming, to snap Mikey out of it. 

“What did you do?” he asks, because he is going to keep making Mikey talk until he can’t any more, because he loves Mikey and he loves doing this to him, _with_ him. 

“He fucks me out of it,” Mikey says, his voice breaking, and Gerard can feel the precome leaking over his fingers. “When he can. But he has the garage and his band and he cut rehearsals short cuz he didn’t want to leave me on my own, and…”

He’s trembling now for another reason, and Gerard tightens his grip again, on Mikey’s body, on his cock.

“Is his band playing again soon?” he asks, even though he knows the answer, keeping his voice gentle. 

Mikey takes a deep breath. “Couple of weeks,” he says and his voice is steadier now. 

“How’s he dealing with it?” They both know that Frank doesn’t always deal well with things. His eating gets erratic, his sleep patterns get fucked, and if it goes on too long they’re liable to find him doubled over in pain in his bedroom, like a wounded animal that’s hiding from the world. 

“Like always.” Most of the tension has drained from Mikey now, and he’s relaxed back into Gerard’s embrace, making happy humming noises at the way he’s stroking his cock. 

“I’ll get some tofu tomorrow,” Gerard says, letting his thumb graze over the head of Mikey’s cock. “I could do that thing he likes? You know, with the seaweed and soy sauce.”

“Sure,” Mikey gasps. “Yeah… Gee.”

“Did he help?” Gerard asks in a low tone, because this is important. Mikey should always be loved – even when Gerard isn’t there to do it.

“Yeah.” Mikey presses his face into Gerard’s chest, and Gerard can feel the damp warmth of his breath. “Been trying some new things. They help.”

And Gerard can’t help it, he lets his fingers pet over some of the new bruises on Mikey’s hips, legs, stopping just short of pressing on them. 

“They make things better for you?”

“Yeah.” There’s an edge of desperation to Mikey’s voice now, and maybe Gerard should press – even if that’s more Frank’s thing than his. 

“Good.” He bites at Mikey’s neck instead, sucking a mark onto it for Frank to find in the morning. “Wanna talk about the work thing?”

“No.” The word is breathy, and Gerard has to bite back a smile. “m’good. It’s the weekend. You’re home. Frank took the afternoon off to… help.”

“You wanna tell me about that?” Gerard asks, not quite sure what he wants the answer to be. 

“No,” Mikey says, and Gerard tries to swallow back his relief. “s’different to how it is with you, that’s all.” 

“And I won’t understand?”

Mikey shrugs and Gerard speeds his hand up fractionally, makes Mikey squirm. 

“I dunno how to explain it so you do understand.” Mikey’s voice is a careful monotone. “I’m not you, Gee. I’m not good with words.” 

“You can tell me anything,” Gerard says and kisses the side of Mikey’s face. “You know that, Mikes.”

“Yeah.” Mikey arches his back and Gerard has to cling on to hold him still. “But…” He hisses out a breath, pushes into Gerard’s touch. “Frank will tell you. Ask Frank.”

Gerard hums, regulates the pace of his hand, adds a twist to the end of each stroke, and soothes his other hand over Mikey’s sides in time. “But I want you to tell me,” he says, and tries not to sound as petulant as he feels. 

“I… oh. Please.” Mikey is starting to sound wrecked, and that is what Gerard has been waiting for. He feels a tension he’s barely been aware of for days now uncurl, and gives himself over to making Mikey _feel_. 

“Please what?” he asks, and slows his hand down again, just to be a bastard. 

“Please, Gee.” Mikey pushes against his hold, is held firm, slumps back. “ _Please_. s’been hours.”

“Not hours.” Gerard doesn’t even try to keep the smile from his voice as he kisses the sweaty space at the bottom of Mikey’s hairline, behind his ear. “Barely an hour, Mikes. We can do this for ages yet.” 

Mikey sobs, loud enough that Frank can probably hear him. It’s beautiful, and Gerard is overwhelmed by this, like he has been so many times before.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says and Mikey whimpers, pushes back into his arms, grinds against Gerard’s erection.

“Please, please, please, please,” he chants like there is nothing else he can say, and really, there is very little that Gerard won’t do for his brother. He tightens his grip, speeds his stroke, and holds Mikey as he falls apart in his arms, the only homecoming that Gerard’s ever wanted. 

—

There are times Gerard can’t believe his luck, times back when he was drinking that he thought he’d never get a life like this. Times, in fact, when he wasn’t sure that he’d end up with a life at all. 

Time has changed all that. Time, and more importantly Mikey. There might well be hundreds of reasons that Gerard loves him, but that… Well. That is one of them. And it’s one of the reasons why he worries about Mikey and his work and his mental health. 

Even though Mikey doesn’t say anything about work for the rest of the weekend, Gerard can still _feel_ it, hanging there, unmentioned and unescapable. He kinda wants to ask Frank about it, but he just can’t seem to form the words, so he bites his lip and does his best to ignore the elephant in the room. 

He manages it until Mikey gets home from work on Monday, nearly two hours late and in a dark mood that sees him slamming his satchel to the floor and stamping upstairs without even acknowledging Gerard or Frank. 

“What…” Gerard starts, standing up from where he’s been curled on the sofa, trying to catch up on his emails, but Frank shakes his head. 

“Leave him,” he says when Gerard pauses. “He needs time to cool off.” 

“But I…” Gerard says, and Frank actually reaches out to put his hand on Gerard’s wrist. 

“I’ll go up and check on him in a bit.” He smiles at Gerard. “I know what I’m doing here.”

He probably does, and he certainly dealt with it all last week, so Gerard sits back down. He can’t focus on his work, though, and when – what feels like hours later – Frank puts his book down and stands up, Gerard is stupidly and absurdly grateful. 

“Don’t worry,” Frank says as he reaches the door. “I’ll take good care of him.”

He waits, like he’s expecting Gerard to question him, or argue with him, but Gerard doesn’t. His mouth is as dry as a desert – far too dry to talk – so he just swallows and nods.

When he goes to bed a couple of hours later, he pauses outside of Frank’s door. There’s the sharp, percussive sound of a hand striking flesh, and above that the thready, plaintive noise of Mikey crying. It shouldn’t make Gerard relax, but it _does_. It’s familiar, it’s _safe_ , and it means that Frank’s managed to break through Mikey’s anger, has got him feeling things that Frank can help him process. 

He falls asleep to the sound of Mikey’s cries, feeling stupidly, absurdly grateful for what he has. 

\--

Then there are times that Gerard manages to fuck things up all by himself. 

It’d be easy to blame it on deadlines. He _hates_ deadlines. They consume everything, make him unbearable. They pay for the fucking house. 

He’s trying to get the last four pages mapped out, attempting to find a plot twist that isn’t cliched to hell already, and he’s _struggling_. He’s already snapped at Mikey, might have even told him to fuck off, and now Frank is at his door. 

He sighs. Puts his pen down with an overly deliberate motion. Turns to face Frank.

“Yeah?” He sounds surly, and he knows it, but this is what he has to work with right now, and if he’s hurt Mikey then Frank doesn’t deserve any better. 

“I’m making soup,” Frank says, his voice very level. “And you need to come out and have some.”

Gerard considers arguing, but there is something hard and cold in Frank’s eyes, and he’s not getting any further forward with this plot anyway. He follows Frank out, perches uncomfortably on the chair, takes in Mikey who’s playing GTA with a scowling and unswerving attention that deliberately has no space in it for Gerard at all. 

Frank leaves them to it, and heads back to the stove. There’s a pot bubbling there, and a whole stack of spices on the side that he’s clearly waiting to add. 

It’s an uncomfortable silence – worse than anything since the earliest days of sharing a house – and Gerard is racking his mind for something, anything, to say that will reach Mikey through his cloud of anger. 

In the end, it’s Frank who breaks the silence. 

He tosses an empty jar of cumin seed into the trash can and frowns when the lid won’t close again. 

“Mikey?” he says, a dangerous edge to his tone. “Take the trash outside.”

Gerard holds his breath because Mikey is clearly spoiling for a fight and this might be the thing that sets him off, but instead of arguing, Mikey – Mikey, who's lazy as shit and hates being told what to do – gets up and grabs the sack of trash from the trash can and vanishes out the door.

“How did you do that?” Gerard asks, awed and without his conscious permission, but Frank just shrugs and carries on checking the spices in the pot on the stove. 

Maybe Mikey will say something when he gets back, Gerard thinks, but he doesn’t. Instead he presses close to Frank’s side, butts him with his head. 

“’s’good,” Frank says. “You did good, Mikes.”

Mikey inhales, deep and shuddering and turns away, starts to head back to the sofa and his game.

His posture is more relaxed and there’s a vulnerability, an openness to him that there wasn’t before. He’s even taking more care of how he’s driving and it makes Gerard feel small, ashamed. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words coming out without his conscious permission, and Mikey smiles, small and tight. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “I know how you get about deadlines.” He passes Gerard the other controller, lets their fingers brush as he does. 

Gerard takes it, shooting a grateful look at the kitchen where Frank is still tinkering with his soup and even as Frank turns away to adjust the spicing, Gerard can see the warm curve of his smile. 

—

Things don’t get better for Mikey at work as the week wears on. If anything they get worse, and if the place didn’t offer such good health insurance, wasn’t so supportive of Mikey’s health in so many ways, Gerard would tell him to walk away from the job. 

But it’s good for Mikey to have it – even when it stresses him out. Anxiety is an evil bastard of a thing, and if Mikey wasn’t stressed about work, he would be stressed about something else. It’s his nature – the anxiety is just a coiling beast that lashes out, latches on to the nearest thing. Better that it is work that takes the blame this time rather than himself, Gerard, Frank. 

So even when Gerard wants to tell him to leave his job, that he’s earning enough for both of them, he doesn’t. Instead he does everything in his power to make sure Mikey can manage, setting out his clothes for him each night, making a lunch for him each morning, tucking a note in to remind him he’s loved, wanted, even while he’s away from them.

“It’s getting worse,” Frank says one morning, watching as Gerard slices a PBJ sandwich in half and wraps it up. “Got any ideas?”

“Take one day at a time,” Gerard says, because it’s the only thing he’s found that helps, even if it doesn’t help much. 

Frank’s mouth twists and he hops down from his perch, takes the pen from the counter and adds to the note Gerard’s written. 

“Gotta do better than than,” he says passing the note to Gerard for him to put in the bag with the sandwich and the fruit and candy. He’s written _good boy_ Gerard sees. “He needs us to work something out.”

He takes a breath, like he’s about to say more, but Mikey finally emerges from the bathroom, scrubbed clean and dead-eyed. Ready for the day. 

Frank stalks over, wraps his hand around the back of Mikey’s neck. 

“Be good today,” he tells him, his voice low, brooking no argument. “Come straight home from work.” He makes eye contact with Mikey, totally serious. “You know what to do. I’ll be home as soon as I can.” 

Mikey nods, and Frank waits a heartbeat, checks he’s serious before he kisses him, then pushes him towards Gerard.

“Gee’s made you lunch,” he says, his tone commanding and oddly out of place in the normal morning routine of their kitchen. “Say thank you.”

Mikey blushes to the tips of his ears. “Thanks,” he says, his voice small. “I…”

“I want to do it,” Gerard says, and kisses him, presses the bag into one hand and a thermos mug of coffee into the other. “Have a good day, okay?”

He waits until Mikey’s gone before he passes Frank a mug of coffee. 

“I thought you had band practice tonight,” he says, and Frank shrugs. 

“Sometimes other things are important.” He sounds confident, absolute. Like there’s no other choice, and it makes something warm curl inside Gerard’s chest. 

“I can help,” he says. “You’re not alone with this.”

Frank looks at him for a long second, considering. “Maybe,” he says. “We’ll see.”

He finishes his coffee and puts the empty cup in the sink, his eyes on Gerard the entire time, but Gerard doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to bridge this gap between them, and in the end Frank just nods and heads out the door to work, leaving Gerard to clean up the kitchen and try and get his head back into the story arc he needs to get finished this week. 

—

He’s out when Mikey gets home from work. Deadlines wait for no man, and the creative process can take hold sometimes to the exclusion of everything else. 

Frank’s already home when he gets back, his car parked neatly in the driveway, and it makes Gerard relax a little, because Frank’s here; Frank will have Mikey. 

Still, he doesn’t want to interrupt them, not if Frank has been able to come up with anything that can actually help Mikey, so he opens the front door as quietly as he can, lets it slip shut with a tiny _snick_ behind him. 

He’s not doing it to spy, he’s doing it out of respect, so when he hears them in the living room (again!), he stops in his tracks. 

“No,” Frank says, his voice low and brooking no argument. “You will do what I say, or there will be _consequences_.”

He means it – that much is apparent – and Gerard swallows, his mouth dry, and creeps forward. 

He’s not sure what he expects to see. Mikey on the Xbox maybe, or slumped, uncommunicative, in the chair he tends to use when he’s sulking, when he wants to be untouchable. 

Instead Mikey is naked, kneeling on the floor, his legs splayed wide and his body leaning forward slightly, but enough that Gerard can see the strain in his muscles, knows how this must be hurting him, how long Frank must have had him like this already. 

It’s beautiful – he’s beautiful – and it takes Gerard a second to take in the rest, and when he does the breath leaves his lungs in a rush. 

Mikey has a collar around his neck, and that’s nothing that Gerard hasn’t expected, not hearing the noises Mikey and Frank make together, but what he wasn’t expecting, what shocks him to his core, is the rubber bone in Mikey’s mouth, that he has clamped between his teeth, like he’s a dog – like he’s _Frank’s_ dog. 

His instinctive reaction is to run, but there’s a vulnerability in Mikey’s posture, in his face that makes Gerard think that interrupting them would be bad, worse than bad for him. He doesn't even want to make more noise by opening the door again, so he just freezes in place and hopes they go into Frank's room soon. 

Except they don’t.

“Drop the bone,” Frank says, his eyes fixed on Mikey and his face stern. 

Mikey looks up at him, and there is something mutinous, something wild in his expression. 

“Drop it,” Frank says again, and when Mikey doesn’t, when Gerard sees the muscles of his jaw tighten as he bites the bone harder, he reaches out, shows Mikey the rolled up newspaper he has in his hand. “Last chance.” 

Gerard sees how Mikey’s eyes narrow, the tension in the lines of his shoulders, how he braces himself – but he doesn’t let the bone drop. 

Frank’s face is utterly impassive and for a second Gerard thinks this was an empty threat, but then he moves, sudden and shocking, and hits Mikey, hard, on each shoulder with the newspaper. 

“Drop it,” he says again, and Mikey does. 

Frank bends down and picks the bone up. “Good boy,” he says, weighing it in his hand. “Now…” He holds the bone out, moving it from side to side while Mikey tracks it with his eyes. “Fetch.”

He throws the bone across the room and it skitters into the kitchen. Mikey waits the barest second before chasing after it, awkward on his hands and knees, and it’s probably funny – in another time or place would have been _hilarious_ – but Gerard has never been further from laughing.

It takes a moment for Mikey to get the bone, and by the time he’s found it and picked it up in his teeth, Gerard’s realized that they aren’t moving, aren’t going any time soon. They need to space here to do this, and he’s stuck, not able to move unless he wants to interrupt their… whatever they are doing. 

“Bring it back here,” Frank says and Mikey starts crawling back to him on all fours, the bone in his mouth. “C’mon, boy.” 

This time Mikey goes straight to Frank and drops the bone at his feet without prompting. It makes Frank smile, and he tousles Mikey’s hair, scratches his fingers over Mikey’s scalp. 

“Good boy,” he says, his voice fond and open – like every time Gerard’s found him talking to a dog in the park, Gerard realizes. “You’re a good pup, aren’t you, Mikes? You’re good at this.”

He picks up the bone, throws it again, and Mikey goes after it, more enthusiastic now, Gerard thinks, freer in the way he moves. 

He gets more relaxed as they play, it seems, until he’s tugging at the bone with his teeth as Frank holds it, growling as he does, and shaking his head with his efforts. Frank pulls back, makes Mikey strain and then lets go, suddenly enough that Mikey isn’t expecting it, that he collapses in a heap of limbs, panting. 

“So good,” Frank says, smiling wide now. “Such a good pup for me.” He looks at Mikey, quirking his head to the side as if considering something, then points at him. “Stay.”

Mikey whimpers, but Frank doesn’t acknowledge him, and Mikey doesn’t move as Frank heads to the kitchen. He bangs around for a bit, rummaging in the back to the Cupboard of Things and finally emerging with a bowl and a small bag.

He fills the bowl with water and carries it carefully back into the living room, to where Mikey is waiting for him, and puts the bowl on the floor. 

“Drink,” he says, and Mikey looks up, bites his lip, looks unsure, but Frank just stands there, watching him. 

It takes him a few minutes, but in the end Mikey crawls forward and starts lapping at the bowl. Gerard’s not sure how much water he’s managing to drink, most of it seems spread over his face or splashing onto the floor, but he keeps trying, and Frank seems pleased, watching Mikey with a small smile on his lips. 

“Such a mucky pup,” he says when Mikey comes up for air, and opens the bag in his hand, takes something out, holds it out to Mikey. “You want a treat, boy?”

Mikey makes a noise that’s suspiciously close to a bark, and Gerard shrinks back, unsure what he’s feeling right now, just determined that he shouldn’t be seen, that he shouldn’t interrupt them. 

Still, he can’t look away, can’t close his eyes even as Mikey crawls across to Frank and takes the treat out of his hand with his mouth. 

“You like that?” Frank asks, his eyes darkening. He holds his hand out and Mikey licks at it, running his tongue over Frank’s palm, between his fingers. “Yeah, good boy.” He wipes his hand over Mikey’s face, reaches back in the bag and pulls out another treat. 

He holds it up over Mikey, lets Mikey strain for it for a second, before backing away, sitting on the sofa. 

“C’mon,” he says, his voice rough with what’s unmistakably arousal. “Get your treat.” 

Again Mikey crawls to him, takes the treat, licks his hand clean. And still Gerard can’t look away, just watches them as Frank pets Mikey, hand feeds him treats. 

He only looks away when Frank finally unzips his pants, and Gerard can move at last, can slip away to his bedroom upstairs, even though he can still hear the noises from the living room if he strains, if he tries hard enough. 

—

He wants to ask Mikey about what he saw, knows he should ask Mikey. But he just _can’t_. 

Mikey’s always done different things with Frank to what he does with Gerard, and Gerard has always been fine with that – or has always done his best to be fine, at least. Even when it meant that Mikey started dating Frank; even when it meant that Mikey started coming home with bruises and marks that he wouldn’t tell Gerard about other than to tell him he’d asked for them. Even when Frank moved in and Gerard had had to relearn everything he’d thought he knew about how relationships were meant to be. 

It’s worth it. It’s all been worth it, and Gerard reminds himself of that every time he sees Mikey looking happy, looking healthy. 

The last thing he wants is to make Mikey feel ashamed or self-conscious about anything, and he had looked so _relaxed_ when he was with Frank, so happy. 

It only leaves him with one option, so he makes one of the salads he knows Frank likes, all soybeans and seeds and superfoods, and brings it by the garage he works at around the time he thinks Frank usually takes a break. 

“Gee.” Frank spots him before Gerard is even in the door. He pulls himself out from under the car he’s working on, his forehead scrunched with concern. “What are you doing here?” He wipes his hands on a rag, hurries over. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Gerard is suddenly ashamed. There’s no way Frank should be so surprised to see him – they’re friends, even without Mikey, Gerard’s sure they are. So he’s not sure why he’s never done this before, and the realization takes him aback. “I just brought you lunch.” He holds out the containers like a peace offering and Frank relaxes. 

“Guys,” he shouts to a chorus of grunts from the other cars. “I’m going for lunch. Back in an hour. Tell Mrs Appleton I’ll have her Camero ready by 4 if she calls.”

Gerard waits while Frank washes his hands and grabs his jacket from the office. He hasn’t been here much at all – Frank’s taken over the servicing of their cars now, and Gerard was only too glad to hand the job over to him. But it means he doesn’t see so much of where Frank works, and as he looks at the thrum of activity in the workshop, it strikes him that this is something he can fix. 

“Ready?” Frank’s voice makes him jump. “You looked a million miles away.”

“Just thinking,” Gerard says. “Where do you want to go?”

Frank looks at him, mouth twisted with thought. “There’s a park,” he says, “around the corner. It’s fairly quiet. I go there sometimes if I have a chance to get lunch.”

“We’ll go there then,” Gerard says, and lets Frank lead the way.

It’s a nice enough park; there’s a small playground, some games courts, even (and it makes Gerard snigger) a shrubbery. 

“Monty Python?” Frank asks and Gerard nods as he hands over the containers of lunch. 

It’s weirdly nerve-racking, waiting for Frank’s reaction, but then Frank looks up from his examination of the containers and grins at Gerard, wide and open, and Gerard forgets why he was ever nervous. 

“So,” he says when he’s had a few mouthfuls and exclaimed over the dressing that Gerard had spent an hour online looking for. “What do you want?”

“I couldn’t just want to have lunch?” Gerard asks, curious, and Frank looks at him like he’s actually considering the answer.

“Yeah,” he says. “You probably could, but I don’t think that’s what this is about today.” He grins at Gerard. “You weren't as stealthy as you probably thought you were the other night – I saw you watching us. So...” He spears a tomato and pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “What do you want to know?”

There’s something about the phrasing that relaxes Gerard, something in the openness of Frank’s face that gives him courage to ask. “What do you do?”

The question is ambiguous, but to give Frank credit he doesn’t even try to pretend he doesn’t understand. 

“Puppy play. Me and Mikes, what we got into recently.” He digs his fork through the salad, concentrating a bit too hard on mixing it. “I guess you could call it pet play as well, but he likes being a puppy, so…”

He looks up at Gerard, and even though his cheeks are pink with embarrassment he meets Gerard’s eyes, just this side of confrontational. 

“How did you start that?” Gerard asks, careful to keep any judgement or anything that Frank might misinterpret from his tone. 

Frank holds his gaze for another second then drops it back to his salad, apparently satisfied that Gerard isn’t about to call him out for what he’s doing. 

“It was while you were away,” he says. “You know how Mikey gets about work, I thought it would do him good to forget about it for a bit, so I took him to a club.” 

Gerard knows they go to clubs. He carefully doesn’t ask what they do there, even though he tries to be awake when they get home, making hot chocolate or tea or something stupidly innocuous when they stumble through the door, an ice pack in the freezer in case Mikey needs it. He nods. 

“There was a couple there, doing pet play.” Frank smiles, clearly remembering. “Mikey wouldn’t stop looking at them, even though I was…” He looks at Gerard and stops himself mid-sentence. “You know.”

“I can imagine,” Gerard says, as dry as he can manage – because he has spent far too long imaging in the past, and Frank grins. 

“Anyway, I could see I didn’t have his attention, so I untied him and brought him to the chill out room and asked him what was up, and…” He shrugs. “We decided to try it.”

“And it worked?”

Frank nods. “Better than I thought it would. For both of us.” He takes another forkful of salad, and chews contemplatively. “You can’t always hit someone to take them out of themselves, you know. It gets too much, and I don’t want to _hurt_ him.”

He looks up, catches the expression on Gerard’s face and they both start giggling like schoolgirls. 

“Okay,” Frank says when he manages to catch his breath. “I _do_ , but only on purpose, not because I’ve overloaded him.”

“I get that,” Gerard says, because he watches out for similar things. When Mikey’s low, he doesn’t always respect his own limits. 

“It usually works out,” Frank says, gesturing with his fork. “You’re there, and you…” He looks at Gerard, shrugs. “You do different things with him.”

“Yeah.” A montage of the hundreds of times Gerard has taken Mikey apart, made him make noises that he’s hoped Frank would hear flash across his mind.

Frank nods. “So normally, he spends time with me and… we do our thing, then he goes to you and you do yours, and it’s never too much. He never ends up injured.”

“But I was away,” Gerard says, realization dawning. 

“Yeah.” Frank looks grim. “And I needed to find something different to do, cuz I couldn’t keep hitting him.”

“You could have called me,” Gerard says and Frank shrugs. 

“You were busy. I should be able to manage a week, even if things get bad.” 

“But you don’t have to,” Gerard says, because it’s important Frank understands this. “We’re in this together, all of us.”

Frank looks at him, like maybe he hadn’t considered that until now, and it’s too much scrutiny. Gerard nudges the container of salad, and Frank shakes his head, shakes the moment off and starts to eat again. 

“I remembered how he’d reacted at the club, so I bought a ball.”

“The pink one?” The one that Gerard’s noticed tucked behind the TV since he got home, in fact. 

“Yeah. That one. And I made him get naked and I threw it for him, and…”

“It worked?”

“God no.” Frank’s face is a picture of horror and Gerard has to stop himself laughing. “It was _hideous_. I don’t think either of us has ever been that embarrassed.” 

“So why did you keep doing it?”

Frank shrugs. “Not very good at admitting defeat,” he says. “And Mikey gets off on humiliation sometimes, and I thought I could make it like that.” He chases the last beans around the container and chew them thoughtfully. “So I made him bark for me.”

“And that helped?”

Frank’s face splits into a grin. “Yes.” He looks at Gerard from under his lashes. “It was the _stupidest_ bark, Gee, like he was a fucking prize poodle or something, and we both got giggles and I threw the ball and he chased it and…”

“It clicked.” Gerard knows even without Frank’s nod of agreement, and he passes over the next container to Frank. 

“Oooo.” Frank’s eyes light up. “Vegan brownie. You need to take me for lunch more often.” 

“Yeah,” Gerard says, because he really does. “So, you use the puppy thing to calm him down?”

Frank makes a wordless noise of agreement, his mouth full of brownie, and it makes Gerard smile. 

“It's quiet in there when he's a puppy. It's a place he feels safe.”

“So…” Gerard can feel his face heating up as he thinks about how to word the question. “It’s not sexual then?”

Frank shakes his head, smiling ruefully. “It is,” he says, “because, I mean. Him and me? Everything's sexual, you know? I tell him to take the trash out and it's sexual. That's just our vibe. But that's not the only thing it's about.” He finishes the brownie and hands that container back to Gerard as well. “Sometimes when you’re out, he puts on his collar and tail and sits at my feet while I read, and I pet his hair a bit, or feed him, but that’s all.”

“His tail?” Gerard says, confused, and Frank blushes. 

“Yeah. He wasn’t wearing that yesterday. I thought it might freak you out.”

Gerard freezes as the words sink in. “You knew I was going to be there?” he says, the words barely a whisper.

Frank just looks at him and now it’s Gerard’s turn to blush, because he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to excuse his actions when he should have gone as soon as he saw what they were doing together. 

“You asked if you could help,” Frank says at last. “I didn’t know how to tell you. Like, what do I say? Dude, I get off on treating your brother like a dog and I think it helps him too?”

Gerard nods, because that makes sense. Mikey gets anxious, paralysed in the face of too many things to do. Giving him one thing he can do well and helping him or correcting him would work. And playfulness. He remembers how Mikey had been panting when he chased the bone. It had been fun and, Gerard realizes, Mikey needs more fun in his life. 

“Yeah,” Gerard says. “You did the right thing. I think I understand better having seen you do it.”

Frank smiles, scuffs the toe of his boot through the dirt at his feet and watches as the dust puffs up. 

“I gotta get back to work,” he says. “But thanks for this.” He hesitates, looks at Gerard suddenly serious. “We should do this again.” He looks at his feet again. “Maybe. You know. If you wanted.”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, because he’s always liked Frank, always known what Mikey sees in him, but they never do stuff just the two of them. Not in the whole time they’ve known each other. Not that Gerard hasn’t wanted to, it just hasn’t….

The brush of Frank's knuckles against Gerard's cheek comes as something of a shock. With the exception of that one drunken time they've all resolutely decided to pretend never happened, Frank doesn't ever touch him like this. And yet, they stay like that for the space of a heartbeat, and then Frank grins and turns away, goes back to work, and Gerard heads home.

—

Gerard’s working when Mikey gets home, and is so caught up that he can barely spare the concentration to look up as Mikey slumps into the room and kisses his forehead. 

“Hey.” Mikey wraps his arms around him, hooks his chin over his shoulder. “Whatcha working on?”

“Dialogue,” Gerard says, moving his head so Mikey can see the art he’s trying to fit words around. 

Mikey hums, his eyes scanning over the page before he turns so his mouth is pressed to Gerard’s cheek. 

“You look nearly done,” he says, each word a movement of lips against skin. “Wanna take a break?”

Gerard shouldn’t, but he’s never been able to say no to Mikey, has never really wanted to, so he pushes his chair back and lets Mikey climb onto his lap. 

“Gonna make it worth my while?” he asks, and Mikey grins, making a show of undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt before he pulls it off and tosses it across the room. 

“Course I am,” he says, grinding his hips in a circle that has Gerard groaning. “When have I ever let you down?”

“Never,” Gerard says, running his fingers down Mikey’s sides. “Never, Mikes.”

Mikey smiles, and leans into Gerard to kiss him, and this is everything Gerard wants right now: Mikey, warm and pliant in his arms, wanting him, needing him. 

It’s only when Mikey pulls away, arching his back and looking down the length of his body at Gerard, that Gerard notices the bruise. It’s not big, probably wasn’t ever big, just a mark like a thumbprint left on the top of Mikey’s hip, but it draws Gerard’s eyes, makes his breath catch. 

“You’re hurt,” he says, running his fingers over it, and Mikey frowns, confused.

“Where?” he asks, and Gerard presses, shows him. “Oh, that.” He shakes his head. “That’s nothing. Just…” he pauses, shrugs. “Frank.” 

Gerard nods, not able to stop touching the mark.

“What does he do?” he asks, because he wants to know, _has_ to know how it is for Mikey. “What do you do?”

He doesn’t mean to upset Mikey, but Mikey tenses up regardless, the loose lines of his body tightening, and he’s awkward like he wasn’t a second ago. 

“I don’t want to talk to you about that,” he says, and the words are tight, small. “You know that. I already told you.”

“I don’t care,” Gerard says, and he tightens his hands around Mikey’s waist. “Whatever you do. I love you, Mikes. I just want to know.” 

Mikey looks at him, unblinking and unswerving and the bravest, most beautiful person that Gerard has ever known. 

“I don’t have words,” he says at last. “I can’t tell you.” 

Gerard nods, swallowing back his disappointment, because Mikey doesn’t need to deal with that, not now. Instead, he pulls Mikey close, breathing in the scent of his skin, of his hair. 

“That’s okay,” he says, his arms tight around Mikey. “Whatever you want, Mikes. You know that.”

He feels the tension ease from Mikey’s body, lets Mikey tip his face up and kiss him again and again. 

“Hey,” he says, when they are both breathless with it. “You’re gonna spend the night with Frankie, right?”

Mikey nods, and Gerard swings the chair around, lifts Mikey bodily onto the bed and starts to hunt for the bag he bought after he’d finished lunch with Frank. 

He’s grinning by the time he finds it, and when he turns and offers it to Mikey, he finds Mikey watching him, quizzical and fond. 

“Wear these?” he asks and sits on the edge of the bed, watches with wide eyes as Mikey opens the box, pulls aside the tissue paper, finds the panties. 

They’re flimsy, beautiful. Nothing but a confection of lace and ribbon that looks like it will dissolve at a touch, but the dark red will look beautiful against Mikey’s skin, and they will feel like a dream for Mikey to wear. 

They’re something Mikey would wear for him – has worn similar things many, many times – but they’re nothing that Gerard thinks Frank would have seen him in, and, as he waits for Mikey to decide, he thinks maybe he would like to share this part of Mikey with Frank, just a little. Thinks maybe Frank will understand what he’s trying to say. 

Mikey’s holding the panties, his face utterly serious, and Gerard suddenly wants to tell him _no_ , that he doesn’t have to do this. But before he can say it Mikey stands up, pulls off his pants and his underwear, and pulls the panties on. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice inscrutable, and he stands for a second, beautiful and more naked like this than he would be if he wasn’t wearing anything at all, and it takes everything Gerard has not to fall on him, to suck him through the fabric, to make him fall apart on his fingers, his lips. 

“Mikey.” He can’t say what he feels, doesn't have the words, so he kneels in front of Mikey, presses his face into Mikey’s thigh. “Mikey.” 

“Yeah,” Mikey says, like it answers everything, and he tangles his fingers in Gerard’s hair, holding him in place, holding him together. 

They stay like that for a minute, would stay there longer, Gerard thinks, but the front door bangs open, and Frank shouts that he’s home, and Gerard has to let go, has to stand up.

He watches as Mikey dresses again, watches how differently Mikey holds himself, how he knows how pretty he is, how he knows his worth. 

“You wanna go catch a movie?” he asks Mikey as they head down to find Frank. “Tonight. The three of us?”

Mikey looks at him for a long moment, and then nods his head. “That would be good,” he says, then he catches Gerard’s wrist, pulls him to a stop halfway down the staircase. “Gonna send you an email later. Just…” He looks at Gerard, pleading, and Gerard uses his grip to pull him close. 

“I love you,” he says, because in the end that’s all that matters, and Mikey sighs, pulls him close and kisses him as Frank walks out of the kitchen and finds them. 

—

“What do you wanna watch?” Frank asks as they make their way to the cinema. He’s been all bright smiles and mischief burning in his eyes since Gerard asked if he wanted to go see a movie together, and now he’s positively skipping next to Gerard while Mikey walks two paces behind to his right. 

“Dunno,” Gerard says. “Don’t even know what’s on, just thought it might be good to get out.”

“Oh, yeah.” Frank grins at him, warm as the sun. “It’s a great idea.” He shoots a sly look at Mikey. “Maybe there’s be a vintage Disney thing and we can catch 101 Dalmatians.” 

“Or Lady and the Tramp,” Gerard says without thinking and Mikey chokes behind him. 

“Quiet,” Frank snaps without even turning around, and Mikey does. When Gerard looks back at him, his eyes are cast down and he’s holding his position, just behind and to the right of Frank, no matter how much Gerard and Frank are weaving across the sidewalk. 

“We should cross here,” Gerard says, because, they don’t have to, but he wants to see what Frank does, what _Mikey_ does, and Frank looks at him, speculative. 

“Yeah,” he says at last. “We can.” He stops on the edge of the curb, turns to look at Mikey. 

Mikey hesitates, but when he makes eye contact with Frank, he nods, small and fast enough that Gerard would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching for it. 

“Wait,” Frank says, his voice stern. He checks the street both ways. “And… heel.” 

He steps out in the road as he says it and Mikey follows, two steps behind, one step to the right. Gerard almost misses his cue, and has to break into a trot to catch up with them. 

Mikey holds his position all the way to the cinema, and Gerard watches him out of the corner of his eye, his loose gait, the tiny smile that twists his lips. It’s only when they get there that he realizes his mistake, because it’s the first week of a new Marvel movie, and the lobby is thronged. 

“It’s okay,” he says, darting his eyes at Mikey. “We don’t have to do this. Maybe we should just…”

“No.” Frank’s voice is firm. “I want to see this.” He juts his chin at Gerard. “You get the tickets, I’ll get the snacks.” He looks at Mikey and his expression softens fractionally. “You, stay.” 

Gerard expects Mikey to say something, because there are crowds here and soon he’ll be in a theatre, and Gerard knows how tough that is for him. But instead Mikey takes a small step back and waits, like Frank asked, and he looks more relaxed than Gerard would ever have expected. 

He has to line up for the tickets, and by the time he gets back, Frank is with Mikey, talking to him in a low tone. 

“So good,” Gerard hears him say as he gets close. “I’m so proud of you, Mikes.” He reaches up and presses his hand to Mikey’s face and Mikey pushes into the touch.“You can do this,” Frank says. “We got you, okay?” 

Mikey nods, and Gerard wants to keep watching, wants to see more, but he can’t justify it to himself, so he coughs, loud enough that Frank looks around. 

“Hey.” Frank’s eyes scan over him, and Gerard wonders if he knows how much he heard. “You got the tickets.”

“Sure do.” Gerard holds the tickets up. “You got the snacks?”

“Popcorn and Pepsi,” Frank says holding out the proof, and Gerard pouts until Frank laughs and gestures at his pocket. “And I got you a KitKat.”

They’re lucky to find three seats together at the end of a row. Gerard heads towards them without thinking and it’s only when he sits down that he catches the smile on Frank’s face. It makes him smile too, because even now, when things feel awkward and new in a way Gerard doesn’t want to examine too closely, they have this shared bond, a shared knowledge that Mikey feels less trapped on the end of rows, is more likely to enjoy the movie without panicking. 

The lights dim almost as soon as they’ve sat down, and he relaxes, feels the warmth of Mikey’s arm pressed to his, and lets the previews and ads wash over him. He’d lose himself in the film, always does, but the title music is barely over when he hears Mikey whining, a soft noise that doesn’t carry far – just far enough for Gerard to catch. He looks over, concerned that something is wrong, and finds Frank looking at him, eyes dark and mischievous. 

He’s caught by the gaze, can’t look away, as Frank raises one eyebrow as if daring him to say anything and holds up a few kernels of popcorn just out of reach of Mikey’s mouth. Mikey strains for it, but it’s only when he whines again that Frank moves his hand closer. He feeds Mikey the treat, lets him lick the salt from his fingers, before reaching back in the box and repeating the action. 

Gerard makes the most of the dark to watch – Frank’s clever fingers; Mikey’s focus and the warm sense of achievement that Gerard can see in every line of his face when he is given more popcorn. It’s hypnotic, better than anything on the screen, and he’s almost shocked when Frank tips the box towards him. He shakes his head, unsure if Frank wants him to share the popcorn, or share feeding Mikey, just sure he can’t do either at that moment. Frank frowns, turning in his seat so he’s facing the screen and taking Mikey’s hand, shrinking in on himself. 

It’s the last thing that Gerard wants, and he puts his arm around Mikey, letting the back of his hand brush Frank’s shoulder. He thinks that maybe Frank will ignore him, that he’s ruined things _already_ , but Frank looks around, his eyes wary, and Gerard smiles, holds out his KitKat to Frank. 

Frank’s mouth twists, still not happy, but he takes the candy and breaks off a bit, holds it out for Mikey to eat from his fingers, then he sinks back against Mikey’s side. It pushes him into Gerard’s hand, and Gerard, hoping it isn’t a coincidence, moves so his arm is around Frank as well. 

—

There’s an email from Mikey waiting in his inbox when he gets home. 

Gerard hesitates, the point of his cursor hovering over the play button, as he remembers what they’d been talking about, what he’d asked Mikey. 

He can hear Mikey right now, breathless moans that drift through the wall; the harsh percussion of open-handed strikes; the steady thrum of Frank’s voice through it all. 

There’s no text to the email, just the file, and Gerard wants to see it every bit as much as he thinks he should delete it.

But in the end, Gerard has never been a good man, never been able to say no when Mikey is concerned, and pressing play was a foregone conclusion. 

Mikey’s spread out on Frank’s bed, like something from a porn studio. 

“Is it on?” he asks, propping himself up on one elbow to face the camera. 

“Yeah.” Frank is behind the camera and the view shakes as he sets it on something steady and adjusts the angle so it’s focused on Mikey, on the lean lines and sharp joints of his body. “You ready for this, Mikes?”

Mikey nods, his eyes tracking Frank as he steps out from behind the camera, walks, naked and full of tightly-coiled potential towards the bed. 

“Hard limits,” Frank says, and Mikey licks his lips, like he’s considering it. 

“Nothing permanent,” he says at last. “No watersports.”

“Can I leave marks?” Frank sounds wary, and Gerard wonders _why_ , because he’s seen Frank’s fingers on Mikey a hundred times before. 

“Yes,” Mikey says, and the word sounds like surrender.

“Even though…” Frank hesitates, reaches out and touches Mikey’s leg, obviously bites back Gerard’s name. “People will see?”

“Let them see.” Mikey juts his chin, looks bold, and Gerard is so _proud_ of him. “Sometimes they want to look.”

Frank nods like it confirms something they’ve already discussed. “Safewords.”

“Traffic lights.” Mikey looks bold, like he’s answering back, like he never does when it’s him and Gerard, and it makes Gerard _itch_. 

“Tell me,” Frank says, and he hits Mikey, sharp, on the inner thigh. 

“Red is stop, orange is slow down. Green is go.” Mikey sounds like he’s reciting a lesson, something he knows like his own skin and breath, and Gerard wonders when he got this confident, this assured. 

“And what color are you now?”

Mikey looks at Frank, his unashamed nudity, his tattoos and swallows. “Green,” he says. 

Frank surges forward and backhands Mikey across the face so hard it rocks him backwards. It’s shocking, and Gerard finds himself gripping his knees, torn between the images on the screen and the noises coming from the room next door, not sure if he is scared or turned on or some horrific combination of both. 

Mikey gasps and touches his face where it’s pink. 

“You’re hard already.” Frank pushes Mikey’s legs apart, wraps a hand roundly around his cock and jerks it a few times. “Slut. You want him to see this, don’t you? Want him to hear?”

Mikey swallows, doesn’t say anything and Frank slaps his cheek again. “Tell me,” he says, his voice lethal. “You want him to know, don’t you?”

Gerard realizes with a shock that _he’s_ the one that Frank’s referring to, and he wonders if Frank made this video intending him to see, wonders when it was, if he’s touched the marks that Frank’s making on screen. 

“Yes,” Mikey says, the word wrung from him. Frank laughs. 

“Suck,” he says holding his hand out. “Suck it like you’d suck him.”

Mikey levers himself onto his knees and leans forward. Frank moves his hand away so it’s just out of reach, so Mikey has to crawl, but Mikey is determined – Gerard can see it in every line of his body – and he reaches Frank’s hand, sucks three fingers into his mouth, looking up from under his lashes like he looks up at Gee when he’s sucking him off. 

“Good,” Frank says, his voice rough. “Good boy.” And he does something with his fingers, pushes or presses or something, until Mikey is gagging around his hand, gagging but still sucking, still trying to hold on. 

“You’re such a whore,” Frank says, pulling his fingers free and smearing the mess over Mikey’s face. “Such a pretty whore.”

And Mikey _is_. He looks up at Frank with wide eyes that hold nothing but trust and love and Frank takes hold of his chin, tilts his head this way and that, like he’s proving something to himself, to Mikey. 

“Open up,” he says. He’s naked already, hard (although Gerard has been trying not to notice that), and he rubs the head of his cock over Mikey’s open mouth. “Color?”

“Green,” Mikey says again and Frank pushes forward before the word is fully done, sliding his cock past Mikey’s lips and not stopping until his full length is in Mikey’s mouth. Probably down his throat from the way Mikey’s eyes are watering, from the way he’s struggling to breathe. 

“Little bitch,” Frank says, but there’s a warmth to his voice that Gerard can’t ignore, won’t ignore. 

He fucks Mikey’s face hard – harder than Gerard has ever dared – and even though Mikey is gagging and writhing, his hands are tight on Frank’s hips, pulling him closer. 

“Fuck.” Frank sounds desperate. “Gotta fuck you now, Mikes. You want him to see how you take it?” His hips buck forward despite himself and Gerard can hear Mikey moan. “You want him to see how fucking well you take it, slut?” 

Mikey doesn’t answer, but he falls back, flips himself over, spreads himself wide for Frank, not seeming to care about the camera or the audience or anything other than what Frank wants. 

“Yeah,” Frank says, and he shoves himself into Mikey in one smooth movement. Mikey catches his breath, and Gerard nearly bites through his tongue, because this is a scene, he gets that. Mikey probably prepped himself, lubed himself up before the filming started, but this looks brutal, and Gerard, god help him, has never been this hard watching porn before. 

“Tell me this is better,” Frank says. “Tell me you need this.” Mikey doesn’t say anything and Frank strikes him, open palmed and sharp, stinging. “Tell me.”

“I need this,” Mikey says his voice raw. “Please, Frankie.”

“What?” Frank thrusts hard and Mikey moans. “You wanna come? You think you deserve it, whore?” 

“Please.” Mikey sounds wrecked. “Please let me…”

“Like he would?” Gerard can hear the laugh in Frank’s voice. “You want me to make you come like he would?”

“No.” Mikey’s voice is small and shamed. “Like you do, Frankie. Make me come like you do.”

Gerard sees how Frank changes the angle of his thrusts, hear how he’s catching Mikey’s prostate in the rising tone of Mikey’s cries. 

“Fuck,” he pants. “Mikes, you’re so fucking _hot_.” 

It makes Mikey moan and push back into Frank’s thrusts, and Gerard can’t wait any longer. He thumbs his fly open and pulls his cock out, sighs with relief as he wraps his hand around it and starts jerking. 

“You want him to see you come though,” Frank says, and it isn’t a question. “You want him to see you come on my cock.” 

Mikey sobs, “Yes.” 

“Do it then,” Frank says, a vicious edge to his voice. “Make yourself come for me.” He pushes into Mikey, hard and unforgiving. “C’mon, bitch. Come.”

Mikey barely has his hand around his cock before he’s coming, almost screaming with it, and Gerard follows close after, coming before Frank pulls out of Mikey and unloads over Mikey’s back. 

—

“Hey.” Gerard grumbles in his sleep and the hand on his ankle tightens. “Hey.”

It’s gentle, but it’s Mikey’s voice and it drags Gerard from his dreams. 

“’S’up?” he asks, barely opening his eyes, but Mikey steps away, and leaves him cold and he has to force himself awake and open his eyes.

It’s worth it – Mikey’s standing in the middle of the room, naked apart from the panties from the night before. Except now they’re _ruined_ , and Mikey is covered in bruises – bite marks and fingerprints – that litter his body from his collarbones to his knees. 

“Mikes.” Gerard is suddenly wide awake, sits up in bed. “Are you…”

“This is me.” There’s a careful neutrality to his voice, and it reminds Gerard of the video he watched before he fell asleep. “You seen it, well. That’s me.”

“And you’re perfect,” Gerard says without pause, because Mikey _is_. He always has been. 

He holds his arms out and Mikey comes to him, presses into the embrace, getting as close to Gerard as he can. Gerard can smell Frank all over him, almost as familiar as Mikey by now, and he reaches out, presses his fingers into the marks Frank has left to guide him. 

It makes Mikey hiss, press into Gerard. He’s hard, Gerard realizes, and he pulls back, looks at Mikey, at the color that stains his cheeks, at the defiance in his eyes. 

“He wouldn’t let me come,” Mikey says, like he’s reading Gerard’s mind. “He fucked me awake and he wouldn’t let me come. He said I could come with you or not at all.” 

His eyes are burning with shame, maybe, or some other emotion that Gerard can’t identify, but he’s hard, the head of his cock poking above the waistband of the panties. 

“C’mere, then,” Gerard says and pulls Mikey onto the bed next to him, presses a kiss to a bite mark that Frank’s left on his collarbone. “What do you need?”

“Fuck me,” Mikey says. “I want you to fuck me, Gee.” 

His lips are swollen, like Frank’s been biting them, or fucking his face again, and Gerard runs the pad of his thumb over them. 

“Okay,” he says, and he kisses Mikey until Mikey’s breathless, panting and moaning into the kisses, pushing himself against Gerard like he can’t wait any longer to be touched. 

His hands are shaking when he reaches down and pulls at the waistband of Mikey’s panties. They’re stained and Gerard can smell the come and lube on them, but he barely hesitates before he wriggles down the bed and buries his face in the join of Mikey’s thigh. It makes Mikey shiver, and he tangles his fingers in Gerard’s hair, but he doesn’t try to move him. Gerard is content for the moment to breath him in. 

It’s only when Mikey shifts, whimpers, that Gerard becomes aware of the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

_How long has Frank made him wait?_ he wonders as he starts to suck Mikey though the material, tasting come and pre-come, sweat and lube as Mikey moans and arches under his touch. 

He’s not patient though, can’t be when Mikey is so needy and ready for him, and he pulls off reluctantly and kneels up to find the lube. 

“No.” Mikey catches his wrist, licks his lip, looking shamed and desperately turned on. “No lube. Just do it, I’m… wet.”

He looks away from Gerard’s gaze, squirming under the touch of Gerard’s fingers on his hips, but Gerard can’t look away. He pulls the panties down, off, and drops them off the bed, and pushes Mikey’s legs apart, runs his fingers over Mikey’s hole. 

“Look at me,” he says, his voice rough, and Mikey does, his face flaming. 

He is wet, and open, and he has to be sensitive, has to be _sore_ , but he pushes into Gerard’s touch regardless, his cock bouncing on his stomach. 

“Do it,” Mikey says, small and brave in a way that makes Gerard’s heart twist. “Just fuck me, Gee.” 

There’s a plea in his eyes, and Gerard can’t say no, doesn’t want to. He pulls up Mikey’s leg and pushes into him. It’s Frank, he realizes as he pauses, the head of his cock just inside Mikey. Frank’s fucked Mikey open, come inside him, and that’s why Gerard can fuck him so easily now. It’s fucking filthy – perfect – and he groans as he pushes fully inside, feels Mikey clench around him. 

“You like this?” he asks, his voice shaking. “You like me feeling the mess he’s made all over my cock?” 

Mikey looks at him with wide desperate eyes, but Gerard can see the answer in the jump of his cock, feel it in the way Mikey writhes under his touch. 

“You want me to know what a little whore you are?” Gerard asks, barely aware of what he’s saying, just remembering how Mikey responded to Frank in the video. “What a cock hungry little freak you are?”

Mikey sobs, pushes his face to the side, his eyes scrunched closed. He’s trembling, open like a nerve, and his cock is leaking pre-come between them. 

Gerard runs his hand down his torso, presses on a string of bruises that run across his hipbone. 

“You like that he hurts you,” he says, and Mikey nods. “You like that he choked you.” There’s a mark on Mikey’s neck, and Gerard is remembering the video, can almost see it, as he reaches out and touches it. 

“Please,” Mikey says, and it’s like a flashback to the video. Gerard slams his hips forward, fucks into Mikey hard and fast – harder and faster than he usually dares. It wrings the sweetest noises from Mikey, noises he usually only hears through the wall, and it’s beautiful, hot, terrible. 

“What do you want me to do?” He can hear the confusion in his voice, has never expected to hear himself sound like this. “You want me to hurt you like he does?” He tightens his hand on Mikey’s hip, until he knows he’s hurting. “What do you need from me, Mikey? What do you need me for?”

He’s expecting an answer, something, and it’s only when he looks properly that he realizes Mikey is crying, the tears leaking wetly down his face, and, oh. Gerard can’t, can’t be what Frank is.

He pulls out, grabs Mikey and cradles him. 

“Hey,” he says, kissing Mikey’s cheek tasting the salt and sadness. “Hey, Mikes. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

It’s what breaks Mikey, and he clings onto Gerard, his body shaking and his face hidden in Gerard’s neck as he cries. 

“Sorry,” Gerard says again, and wants to hit himself at how useless the word is. “I’m sorry Mikey.” And then he holds Mikey, lets him take what he needs until he pulls away.

“I don’t want that from you,” Mikey says. “I got Frank for that. I…” He looks away. “I want how you make me feel.” 

The words are vulnerable and torn open and Gerard reaches out, touches him. 

“How’s that?” he asks. 

“Like I’m the best thing in your life.” Mikey’s face is open, honest. “Like you think I’m precious.”

“I do,” Gerard says. “You are.” He looks at Mikey, at how everything is written on his face and body for Gerard to see, from the mess of his tears to where he is still hard, still needing despite everything he’s feeling. “I love you.”

Mikey looks at him, eyes wide, then he surges forward, kisses Gerard, as clumsy and fervent as the first time they kissed. 

“I love you too,” he says against Gerard’s lips, and Gerard takes hold of his shoulders and pushes him back onto the bed. 

“Can we try again?” he asks. “Mikey, I need…”

“Yeah.” Gerard can hear the relief in the word, see the relief on Mikey’s face, and he bows his head and nudges Mikey’s thighs apart, settles himself between them. 

“You’re perfect,” he says again when he feels Mikey open up, let him in. “Mikey…” He breathes, lets himself feel how perfect this is. “I can feel Frank’s come in you. I…” He blinks, not sure how to articulate how he feels. “I need…”

“Anything,” Mikey says, and Gerard knows he’s telling the truth. “Anything, Gee.” 

“That video.” Gerard skims Mikey’s cheek with his knuckles. “You looked so…” He breaks off, not sure of the words. “How can you take that? You’re so brave.”

He lowers himself onto Mikey, lets himself just move, to feel how Mikey responds to him, how he pushes into Gerard, how he’s hard and pliant. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Mikey says in his ear. “Frankie knows when to stop. He’d never hurt me.”

“No.” Gerard presses a kiss to the joint of Mikey’s jaw. “Not that. It’s…” He pauses, feels Mikey’s rough breaths under him. “The video. You showed it to me.”

“Oh.” The sound is almost a moan and Mikey shivers under him. “You need to know…”

“What?” Gerard kisses him, soft, moving as slowly as he can, angling himself so each movement drags over Mikey’s prostate. “That you’re a filthy little slut?” He nips at Mikey’s lower lip, sooths the hurt with his tongue. “A whore who’d do anything for cock?” He bites at Mikey’s jaw. “The bravest man I know?” He cups Mikey’s face in his hand, fucks into him. “You didn’t need to show me a video for me to learn that, Mikes.” 

Mikey moves his head, trying to look away, but Gerard turns his face back, won’t let Mikey escape from this. 

“I see you, Mikes. I’ve always seen you. You don’t need to hide anything from me. Ever.”

“But… but..” The color is high on Mikey’s cheekbones. “But I need…”

“I know what you need,” Gerard says. “And I got you. Frank’s got you.” He wraps his hand around Mikey’s cock, jerks it in time with his thrusts. “Anything you need, Mikes. Always.” 

He leans forward, kisses Mikey as he tightens his hand, and that’s all it takes; Mikey falls apart around him and Gerard tumbles after, panting Mikey’s name like it’s precious, soft and tender and light years away from the clip that’s saved in Gerard’s favourites now. 

—

He goes to see Frank again at lunch, and Frank grins, wide and warm as he ambles over to Gerard.

“Getting to be a pattern,” he says when he’s a handful of inches away from Gerard. “What did you bring me today?”

“A wrap.” Gerard holds out the tupperware containers, feeling like he needs an excuse to be here at all. “Some veggies, hummus.” 

Frank nods, his eyes assessing. “Park again?” he asks, and Gerard nods. 

“I fucked up,” he tells Frank once they’ve found a bench and Frank’s started to eat. “I watched that video Mikey sent me, and I thought maybe he needed me to do that for him, and I fucked up.”

“Wait.” Frank puts the wrap back in the container and frowns at Gerard. “Rewind. What video?” 

“Um.” Gerard blinks because he assumed that Frank _knew_ about the video. “You know. You and Mikey.”

“I gathered that,” Frank says, his voice tight. “Context and all, but which one?”

“You choke him,” Gerard says, swallows around his dry mouth. “You fuck his face. You ask him if he wants me to watch you fuck him; make him come.” 

Frank nods, small and angry. “I didn’t know he was going to share that with you,” he says and juts chin up at Gerard. “And I’m not going to apologize.”

_He thinks I’m angry_ , Gerard thinks and shakes his head. “I don’t expect you to.” He smiles at Frank, hesitant, wanting him to understand. “I see how you are together. You’re giving him what he needs, you’re not hurting him.”

It makes Frank bark out a laugh. 

“I am,” he says, a bitter edge to his tone. “If you think I’m not, you’re not looking close enough.”

“You mean the marks on his skin?” Gerard raises an eyebrow. “The noises he makes when you’re with him?” He waits for Frank to shrug, angry and defensive, before he continues. “You didn’t know Mikey when things were worst – you couldn’t have. It was before you joined us.” He puts his hand on Frank’s, presses it. “Since you’ve been around it’s been better.” Frank only looks sceptical though, so Gerard tightens his hold. “You have no idea how important you are to him, how important you are to us.”

Frank looks at him, puzzled and tense, but there must be something in Gerard’s face because he relaxes fractionally. 

“So,” he says, “you watched the video, then. How did you fuck up?”

The question makes Gerard hesitate, because he doesn’t want to say, even though he has to. 

“You sent him in to me,” he says, his voice low. “And he was all marked up and beautiful and I thought that maybe he needed me to be more like you…” He feels Frank freeze next to him and trails off, ashamed. 

“What did you do?” Frank says, his voice hard. “Gerard?”

“I insulted him,” Gerard says because he needs to be honest here, has to be. “I fucked him too hard…”

“Did you ask him beforehand?” Frank’s ask, but there’s an edge of disdain to his voice that suggests he knows the answer. “Did you get his safe word?”

Gerard shakes his head and Frank hisses.

“If you weren’t his brother,” he says, his voice venomous. “If I didn’t know you – I would punch you now.”

“Maybe you should,” Gerard says, miserable. “Maybe that’s what I deserve.”

Frank’s anger is palpable and Gerard is suddenly ashamed, scared – not of Frank but that he’s hurt Mikey, and he wants to pull out his phone, text him, even though he’d been fine when he left this morning, was fine when he texted Gerard half an hour ago.

Frank takes a deep breath and Gerard can _feel_ him trying to force himself to relax. 

“Do you know what it takes for him to let you humiliate him?” Frank asks, conversationally, and it might almost sound pleasant if Gerard didn’t know him. “Do you know how hard I worked so he would trust me? So he understood I loved him?”

It’s not something Gerard _has_ considered and he shakes his head again. Frank sighs, exasperated.

“Of course not.” He looks at Gerard, his expression carefully blank. “You never deal with that, do you? It’s all roses and romance and one true loves for you. There’s no edges, no mess – no need for you to learn how each other ticks, is there?”

“No,” Gerard says, his voice small, because this might be true, but… “No. We knew each other. You’re right, Frank. We grew up knowing each other. So all we had to deal with was the fact that what we’re doing is illegal in most of America. That we had to move away from home. Pretend we have partners when our parents call.” He looks at Frank, anger coiling in his stomach. “It’s really been a bed of roses, Frankie.”

Frank slumps next to him, the anger driven out and replaced by shame. “You made your point,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

He means it, Gerard knows, and he’s maybe never thought what their relationship meant to Mikey and Gerard – the prices they’ve had to pay in order to have it. 

“I’m sorry too,” he says. “I never meant to hurt Mikey.” He looks at the tight lines of Frank’s body. “I never meant to hurt you. I stopped when I worked it out. I think I made it okay. I just…” He scrubs his hands through his hair. “I wanted to understand – I _want_ to understand. It’s this whole part of him I never get to see and you do, and…” He looks at Frank, guilty and wanting, but Frank’s anger is burned away now, he looks at Gerard with infinite compassion, finishes for him.

“You want to be part of it.”

“If he’ll have me.” Gerard bites his lip. “If you will.” 

“It won’t be the same,” Frank says. “You’re not me.”

“And I don’t want to be.” He looks at Frank, wills him to understand. “I’m not trying to replace you. I just want to share it.” He can see the uncertainty in every line of Frank’s body, and he reaches out, runs one fingertip over the tattoo on the back of Frank’s hand. “And I thought maybe it might make it easier. You know. For, uh, other reasons.”

The look Frank gives him is shockingly vulnerable, and Gerard has to tense every muscle so he doesn’t do anything stupid. 

“We’ll be different as well,” Frank says at last, and in his own way he is as brave and beautiful as Mikey and it occurs to Gerard that maybe he has a type. 

“Of course we will,” Gerard says. “But I should still know, right?”

Frank turns his hand, catches Gerard’s fingers, links them with his own.

“Maybe,” he says, and if his voice is shaking then Gerard isn’t calling him on it. “You should watch once at least, then make your mind up.”

“And you’ll show me?” Gerard asks, eager. 

Frank stares at him, his hand warm in Gerard’s. “What do you want to see?” he asks, and Gerard has to take a deep breath because there is so much on offer here. “What do you want?”

“What do you most want to hide?” Gerard asks, and Frank looks at him, his eyes dark and brimming full of promise. 

—

Frank’s standing in the middle of the living room. He’s not dressed much different to normal, just jeans and a white t-shirt, but there’s a tightly coiled energy to him that Gerard hasn’t seen before – not from this perspective. Not when it’s directed at him – even if it’s only a partial thing. 

“Safeword,” he says, pulling on a pair of leather gloves and wriggling his fingers so they mould exactly to the shape of his hands. “Mikey?”

“Red.” Mikey is kneeling, naked, in the middle of the floor, his head bowed, his arms behind his back, clasped so he’s displayed in all his vulnerable beauty. 

“Good.” Frank stands behind him, smiles tightly. “And if you need a break?”

“Orange.” Mikey sounds like he’s reciting a lesson by rote. “And green if everything is good.”

Frank stills completely, fixes Mikey with a look.

“Did I ask you that?” he says, and Mikey shakes his head. “Do you think I’ll go easy on you? Just because your brother is watching?” 

Mikey bites his lip. “No,” he says at last and sneaks a look at Gerard, at where he’s sitting on the sofa, fully dressed, arms by his sides – in exactly the position that Frank put him in. 

“Good.” Frank is watching, following Mikey’s eyes and his mouth twists in a smile Mikey can’t see. “Hard limits?” 

“No permanent marks,” Mikey says, then looks up again at Gerard. “No insults. Not tonight.”

Frank walks around, takes Mikey by the chin. “Agreed,” he says. “Soft limits?”

Mikey eyes flick to Gerard again. “Begging,” he says. “Making me talk at all.”

“Anything else?”

Mikey blinks, swallows, and the noise is loud in the quiet of the room. “Take care of me afterwards,” he says. “I want… I need…” He looks up at Frank, imploring. “ _Frankie_ …”

For a second Frank’s face softens and the touch of his hand on Mikey’s face is suspiciously close to a caress. Then he nods and the moment passes and he is as menacing as he was before.

“Go stand against the wall,” he says. “Face it. Arms at ten and two. Wait for me.” 

He waits until Mikey complies before he turns to Gerard. 

It’s unsettling. Frank’s looked at him before hundreds of times – thousands even – but Gerard’s never felt the full weight of his undivided attention quite like this before. 

He looks Gerard up and down, his gaze stripping him bare, exposing all the secret parts of his heart, and it’s everything that Gerard can do not to squirm. 

“Give me a safe word,” Frank says, and Gerard inhales, harsh and burning. 

“Red,” he says, because it’s simple, it’s Mikey’s word, and Gerard can share that. 

Frank looks at him for a long moment, and it’s so quiet Gerard hears the blood in his ears, the sound of his breath, but in the end Frank nods. 

“You sit there,” he tells Gerard. “You do not move unless I tell you to. You respect Mikey’s wishes and you don’t interfere. Understand?”

_Do you trust me?_ he’s asking, and Gerard does, trusts him and trusts Mikey to say stop if he needs it, so he nods. 

It’s not enough for Frank. He steps forward, crowds into Gerard’s space, tilts his head up with a careful touch. 

“I mean it,” he whispers, meeting Gerard’s eyes, steady and calm. “If you don’t think you can do as I say, you need to leave now.”

He’s serious, and it makes Gerard stop, nervous at what Frank is going to do that could warrant this. 

“I’ll stay still,” he says at last. “I won’t move until you tell me to.” 

Frank holds on for another second, runs his finger under Gerard’s chin, before nodding and starting to move away, and maybe Gerard should be quiet, but he _can’t_ – not if he’s actually part of this. 

“What about you?” he asks, and Frank turns around, taken aback for the first time. “What do you want?”

He can see the breath that Frank takes, the way he considers the question, considers not answering. 

“I want you to watch,” he says. “I want you to see him – to see _us_. And you…” He switches his attention to Mikey. “I want you to fight back.”

It’s all the notice that Mikey gets before Frank is on him, grabbing a plastic bag off the table where he’s laid out his supplies and sliding it over Mikey’s head. 

Mikey bucks, clearly taken by surprise, and Frank tightens the bag, kicks Mikey’s legs out from under him, wrestles him to the ground. 

It takes him a moment, because Mikey _does_ fight, and he catches Frank with an elbow as he goes down. It hits Frank in the cheek, and he grins, feral and uninhibited as he puts everything he has into mastering Mikey.

Mikey is thrashing, panicked and desperate, and Gerard can see the bag hollowing out where he is trying to breathe. 

It’s brutal – shocking – and Gerard has to fight to stay in his seat, because everything in him is shouting to save his brother. 

He promised Frank though, he owes this to Mikey, and he tries to keep his promise. Even then, he might move, might try and stop this once Frank gets Mikey on the ground, but Frank sticks his fingers into Mikey’s mouth, ripping the bag open, and Gerard feels the shuddering breath that Mikey drags in like it’s going into his own burning lungs.

“Breathe,” Frank says, his voice louder than Gerard has heard it, more commanding than he imagined it could be. “You need to breathe, Mikey.” His knee is on the small of Mikey’s back, and he still has the bag tight around his face, and Gerard is terrified, confused – more turned on than he’s been in ages. 

He thinks Mikey won’t listen, that he’ll fight Frank, but he doesn’t. He breathes, lets his body goes limp, and Frank lowers him gently to the ground, finally pulling the bag free as Mikey recovers. 

Gerard can see his face from here, see everything in it, and he’s glad now he didn’t move, glad he obeyed, and it gives him the strength to keep still as Frank loosens his hold and Mikey starts to stagger to his feet. 

For a second Frank just watches him, a small smile on his lips, and then he’s surging forward, grabbing the rope of the table, and wrestling Mikey back to the ground. 

Mikey goes down hard, and it only takes seconds for Frank to have his arms behind his back, his wrists wrapped with rope. 

“Easy,” he says in a low voice. “Easy, Mikes.”

Mikey moans, thrashes, and Gerard can see the red places where his skin is being abraded by the carpet, Frank’s clothes, the ropes. 

Frank is surprisingly efficient with the rope. It takes him less time than Gerard imagined to get Mikey trussed up with his wrists tied to his ankles behind his back, and Mikey looks beautiful, even with his eyes wide and his muscles straining against his bonds. 

“Color?” Frank asks, and Mikey shakes his head, trying to escape the question, but Frank hits him, open-handed and loud, on the ass.

“Green,” Mikey says, his voice a sob, and Frank smiles, grim and satisfied, at the confirmation. 

He starts to untie the ropes, sliding them over the sore places of Mikey’s skin, letting them spool onto the floor after, and Mikey waits just long enough that he can move freely before he’s pushing himself up and trying to escape on shaky legs. 

He’s sobbing, loud enough that Gerard can hear him, and the tears are running down his face, but Frank just watches him, impassive and not making any move to comfort him. 

It takes every Gerard has then to stay still, to stay silent, but he remembers what Frank said and he does, even though he wants to reach out, to kiss the tears from Mikey’s face. 

It’s only when Mikey manages a few staggering steps that Frank stands up. His face is still calm, but his focus is wholly on Mikey as he starts pulling his clothes off, and Gerard stares at his skin and tattoos, at the hard curve of his cock. 

“Color?” he asks again when he’s fully naked, when Gerard can see his he’s bracing himself, how he’s coiled ready to pounce, and Mikey looks back over his shoulder and stumbles to his knees. 

“Green,” he says again, and Frank is on him, kicking his legs wide, his hand in Mikey’s hair, wrestling him to the ground in front of Gerard. 

His intent is clear this time, and Gerard can’t look away. Frank pulls a plug out of Mikey, and Gerard has to bite back a groan, because the angle’s been wrong, or maybe he wasn’t looking correctly, but he hadn’t seen that until now, hadn’t realized that Mikey had done all _this_ with a plug in his ass. 

Frank barely hesitates though. He slides into Mikey, and Gerard can see Frank’s face, can see how this affects him, see how much he wants this. 

He thrusts a couple of times, the movements accompanied by Mikey’s broken whimpers, before he opens his eyes, fixes his gaze on Gerard, 

“Jerk off,” he says, his voice heavy and compelling. “Jerk off on his face. Now.”

In a better world Gerard wouldn’t be hard, would be getting off on watching Mikey being treated like this – but this is not that world and he’s trapped by the intensity of Frank’s eyes. So he falls to his knees on the floor, fumbles his fly open, and starts jerking off. 

It’s messy as fuck. Frank is fucking into Mikey hard and unforgiving time and time again, and Gerard can see everything on Mikey’s face – every broken, vulnerable thought and emotion. 

It should be enough to stop him, but he doesn’t. He strokes himself, too hard, too fast, what he needs, and the head of his cock grazes Mikey’s face, his lips, time and again while Mikey darts his tongue out, licking at Gerard when he can, desperate and wanting. 

But in the end it’s Frank he turns to, who he expects to save him, and he does. 

“Come on, then,” Frank tells him, proud and perfect and everything Gerard wants and can’t have right now. “Come for me.” 

Gerard does, comes over Mikey’s face, shaking with the force of it, and Frank grins, feral. 

He pulls out of Mikey, still achingly hard and flips him over so he’s on his back. Mikey gasps, like he hadn’t expected this and Frank reaches down, his face open and tender for a second as he swipes his fingers through the mess of Mikey’s face. It’s enough that he can rub his hands together, can take himself, take Mikey in hand and stroke them both together to the same beat, until Mikey is cursing and begging, his hands digging into the floor as he tries to keep them still, his lips spilling promises and threats. Until Frank smiles at him and he comes. 

Frank follows a heartbeat after, coming across Mikey’s cock and torso, and it’s only then that Mikey falls back, finally relaxed and letting himself go, letting himself breathe. 

Frank bows his head, and Gerard watches him breath for a second, two seconds, before he visibly pulls himself together. 

“Mikes,” Frank says, his voice soft. “Baby.” He pulls Mikey up off the floor, cradles him. “You…” He breaks off like he can’t find the words, and looks around, searching for something. 

There’s a dark green blanket under the other sofa, and Frank hasn’t told Gerard he can move, hasn’t told him he can join in, but there’s no way that Frank can reach the blanket from where he is – not without leaving Mikey – so Gerard drops to his knees and gets it for him. 

It’s worth it for the way that Frank smiles at him when he hands it over, for the way that Mikey shudders as the soft fabric touches his skin, for the way he presses into its warmth. 

“I got you,” Frank tells him. “Mikes, you did so good. You were amazing.”

Mikey pushes his face into the soft skin of Frank’s armpit and Gerard can see how he’s fighting for control. 

“You shocked me,” he says finally. “I know you told me what you were gonna do, but the start of it… you shocked me.”

“I know.” Frank runs the pads of his fingers across Mikey’s face. “But you took it for me, Mikey. I knew you could.” He presses a kiss to Mikey’s forehead. “You were perfect.”

“Gerard,” Mikey says, and Frank finally looks up, sees Gerard, how he’s hugging his knees to his chest, how he’s fighting the cold and the adrenaline to be still, to be good. 

His expression softens. 

“Gee?” Frank sounds almost hesitant now. “There’s a washcloth on the sink in the bathroom. Can you run it under warm water and bring it back to me?”

He waits until Gerard nods before he smiles. 

“Make sure the water’s hot,” he says. “Not hot enough to burn you if it splashes, but hot enough that it will be warm when you get back.” He looks at Gerard like he understands everything Gerard is feeling right now. “Mikey needs to be warm; I know you want him to be comfortable.” 

It’s something Gerard can do, something he can achieve, and he does it as well as he can. He waits until the faucet is running almost too hot to bear before he puts the washcloth under the water. He lets it get sodden, risks burning his fingers, before he shuts off the water, wrings the cloth out and heads back to Frank.

“Good,” Frank tells him. “You did really well, Gee.”

It’s enough that Gerard sinks to his knees and waits while Frank cleans Mikey up, wipes him clean of the mess. 

Frank drops the cloth when Mikey is clean, pulls him close instead, lets him bury himself in Frank’s skin, his body. 

“You did so good,” Frank says. “I’m so proud of you.”

And for a moment Gerard is so jealous he’s dizzy with it – can’t tell who or what he is jealous off – and then he looks up, sees that Frank’s eyes are on him, and his breath catches in his throat. 

“Come here,” Frank says, and for the first time in what feels like hours he’s sure that Frank is talking to him. 

He could argue or fight, but Gerard’s never been much for fighting losing battles, so he presses himself to Frank’s side, to the place that Mikey has left clear. Frank wraps his arms around both of them. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and Gerard knows without a shadow of a doubt that he’s speaking to both of them. “I am so fucking proud of you both.”

He tangles his fingers in Gerard’s hair, and when Gerard, exhausted and aching, goes with the moment, he finds his head pressed to Mikey’s, can feel how Frank is stroking them both. 

Oddly though, he doesn’t care. He lets himself go, warmed by Mikey’s presence and Mikey nuzzling his cheek even while Frank’s fingers are stroking his scalp, until everything falls away, all the pain and confusion. The hurt. The jealousy.

“I got you,” he hears Frank saying as he’s teetering on the edge of sleep, and the thought makes him relax, lets sleep overtake him, just him and Mikey and Frank.

—

Frank’s hand is still on his shoulder when he opens his eyes, groggy and slightly nap-drunk, to the familiar sight of the living room.

“Where’s Mikey?” he asks and Frank looks up from his book. 

“He woke up a while ago,” Frank says and he carefully takes his hand off Gerard. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” Gerard sits up, rolls his shoulders and tries to wake up properly. Frank’s looking at him cautiously and he can’t think why. Then he remembers – Frank naked, forcing Mikey to his knees, the look on his face as he came – and he blushes, looks away. “Um, you want a coffee or something? I thought I might…”

“Don’t.” Frank puts his book down and gets up, takes a step back so he isn’t crowding Gerard. “Look, I…”

He’s nervous, Gerard realizes, and he wonders what it was like, doing that to Mikey, letting Gerard _watch_ , and then sitting there, awake and alone while they slept it off. 

“Hey.” He reaches out, awkward and puts his hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I enjoyed it.” Frank shrugs, but he’s looking anywhere but at Gerard. 

“Yeah,” Gerard says, lets the touch of his hand turn into something closer to a caress. “I remember. It was hot.”

“You thought so?” Frank does look up now, hopeful, and Gerard remembering what they did, grins. 

“I got off, didn’t I?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Frank’s eyes flash dark. “You did.” 

He licks his lips, looks down Gerard’s body, and Gerard is suddenly very aware they’re alone together. His cock stirs. 

“So where’s Mikey?” he asks, because he isn’t sure what else to do now and Frank’s mouth twitches. 

“He woke up before you, and…” Frank shrugs. “He freaked out a bit.”

“Why?”

Frank looks at him and very deliberately raises an eyebrow and Gerard thinks of Mikey, how stripped open and laid bare he’d been, and swallows.

“Oh, right.” He takes a step back, away from Frank. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah.” Frank nods. “He just needed some time out.” It doesn’t make sense and Frank must see that on Gerard’s face. “Sometimes he thinks too much, feels too much.”

Gerard nods because he knows what it’s like when Mikey’s head gets busy and it drowns out his thoughts. 

“How did you help?” he asks, because he’s completely sure that Frank did help, wouldn’t have been sitting with Gerard if Mikey hadn’t been safe.

“It helps when he’s a puppy.” Frank meets his eyes steadily. “He doesn’t have to think about things or talk about things, he just has to do what I say.” 

“So, he’s being a puppy now?”

Frank looks at him, assessingly, and nods.

“He has a crate in my room,” he says. “I sent him there.”

“Oh.” Gerard takes a deep breath, thinks of Mikey being a puppy. Thinks of him alone in his crate. “Do you think I can go and see him?”

“What are you going to do?” Frank sounds honestly curious, and it makes Gerard search himself, check his own honesty. 

“I’m not sure,” he says, because he isn’t. “I want to check he’s okay, but then…”

He trails off and Frank stares at him. 

“He’s vulnerable when he’s like this,” Frank says, like he’s sharing a secret.

“So, I shouldn’t go in?”

“No.” Frank gives him a look. “No, I think you’ll be okay. Just be careful what you say.”

“You could come with me?” Gerard says, nervous and not sure why, and Frank nods. 

His hand is warm on the small of Gerard’s back as he guides him to his room, and it gives Gerard something to hold onto, something to ground him. Still, he hesitates at the door, his hand on the handle. He hasn’t been in Frank’s room often. They’re both aware of each other’s space, both so _respectful_ that it sometimes aches. Only Mikey moves freely around the house, moves between them without worrying he’s trespassing. Gerard isn’t sure he’s been inside the room since he helped Frank move in. 

“You can go in,” Frank says, his voice gentle and close to Gerard’s ear, and Gerard exhales and turns the handle. 

The room is a far cry from the last time Gerard spent any significant amount of time in it. There are so many books, shelves everywhere, and for a second Gerard forgets why he’s here, takes an involuntary step towards them. It’s only Frank’s soft laugh that makes him remember and he hesitates, looks around the rest of the room, at the posters on the few free spaces of the walls, at the hand stitched comforter on the bed, at the cage that sits, prominent, at the foot of the bed. 

It’s large, large enough for a mastiff or a great dane, Gerard thinks. The door of the crate is open and there is a huge purple cushion that covers the bottom of it. And curled up on the cushion, naked apart from a thin leather collar around his neck, is Mikey. 

His eyes are closed but there’s a tension to his body that lets Gerard know he isn’t asleep. 

Frank crouches down by the cage. 

“Hey, boy,” he says, his voice light and soft. “Hey, pup. There’s someone here to see you.”

He moves to the side in time for Gerard to see Mikey’s eyes fly open, a look of sheer terror on his face.

“Hey,” he says, and crouches down next to Frank. “Hey, puppy.” 

It feels silly talking to Mikey like this, and he can’t get it out of his mind that this is Mikey – this is his brother. But Mikey needs this, so Gerard pokes his fingers through the cage, like he would for a real dog, giving Mikey a chance to get his scent. 

But Mikey doesn’t. He crowds back against the back wall of his crate, and Gerard knows him, knows he’s about to panic and get away from this space they’ve all managed to build together. 

Gerard doesn’t want that – he wants Mikey to trust him, wants him to feel like he can be himself. He looks at Frank, but Frank stands up and backs away, and Gerard realizes that he’s on his own unless he hurts Mikey. 

“Such a pretty puppy,” Gerard says, feeling stupid. “Aren’t you a good boy?” There’s a soft touch on his shoulder and Frank hands him a bag of puppy treats. “Here.” Gerard takes one from the bag, holds it out to Mikey. “Want a treat, boy?”

They’re cookies, he sees, baked into the shape of bones, and he wonders if Frank made these himself. Gerard suspects he did. 

He drops the treat into the cage and scoots back so he can sit down, look at Mikey.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to look at you, okay?” 

Mikey still looks scared, suspicious, but he doesn’t look terrified any more, isn’t looking at Gerard like he’s everything bad in the world, and Gerard will take whatever progress he can get.

“Frank tells me you play catch,” Gerard says, even though Frank hasn’t – Gerard has seen this. “He says you’re the cleverest puppy.” He breathes in, tries to summon up the rags of his courage. “I thought maybe we could play fetch tomorrow, if you wanted, before Frank gets home from work.”

He looks up at Frank, sees his smile, the tiny nod of approval and when he looks back at Mikey, he sees that he’s moved away from the wall of his cage, is creeping cautiously forward. 

His eyes are still on Gerard, though, wary and more fearful than Gerard would like as he picks the treat up with his teeth and eats it. Gerard reaches into the bag, pulls out another cookie.

“Here,” he says and holds it out to Mikey, feels relief wash hot through him when Mikey carefully takes it from his fingers. “Who’s a good boy?” He lets Mikey have one more, then holds out his fingers so Mikey can sniff them. “No more. Puppies should earn their treats.” Mikey licks his fingers, runs his tongue over them, gentle and enthusiastic. It tickles, is alien, but Gerard could get used to how it feels. “Should we take you for a walk, boy?” Mikey wuffles happily and Gerard pats his thighs. “Wanna come here and let me pet you?” 

Gerard can tell that Mikey is still wary, but he comes out of his cage, crawls around and puts his head on Gerard’s thighs. 

It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and Gerard isn’t sure what to do, but Mikey’s been so brave, has crawled to him on his _knees_ , so he puts his hand on Mikey’s head and pats him gently. 

Mikey makes a wuffly noise and moves his head under Gerard’s hand. It takes Gerard aback. He moves his hand carefully, and Mikey makes increasingly happy noises until Gerard gives in and finally ruffles Mikey’s hair. 

Honestly, he can’t believe that he’s getting away with it. Mikey is normally so reluctant about anyone touching his hair, will squirm away if Gerard even looks like he’s thinking of touching it. Now he’s pushing into the touch, and Gerard pets him and tells him what a good boy he is over and over, feeling the tension ease from Mikey. 

It’s not like when he’s normally with Mikey. Even though he’s naked and pliant and Gerard is touching him, stroking him, it’s weirdly innocent and non-sexual, and Gerard likes it way more than he thought he would. 

He looks up at Frank, finds him watching them with dark eyes. 

“Your puppy’s lovely,” Gerard says and feels more than hears Mikey whimper into his thigh. “I’d love to play with him again if you’ll let me.” 

“We’ll see,” Frank says, and Gerard realizes that he’s going to ask Mikey about this later, when Mikey is feeling more … human. “But maybe. Yes.”

It makes Gerard smile and ruffle Mikey’s hair, and this will never get old. 

“Hey,” he says, tipping Mikey’s face up. “Go give your daddy some love, okay boy?”

Mikey rears up on his knees and licks at Gerard’s face and it makes him fall back, laughing. 

“Good puppy,” he says again and Mikey nuzzles his neck, presses into him, his naked body rubbing against Gerard’s jeans before he lollops off, all loose limbs and panting breath. 

Frank laughs too as Mikey reaches him, and he lets Mikey climb onto the bed, lets him tumble Frank over. 

“Hey,” he says, his voice breathy, and Gerard can’t tear his eyes away from them. “Hey, beautiful. You happy to see me?”

Mikey yips happily and licks across Frank’s cheek, his throat. He’s half hard already now, Gerard notices, and he stirs, not sure if he should stay or go. The movement attracts Frank’s attention, but he lies still for another second, lets Mikey lick down the soft place of his suprasternal notch, trace the start of a tattoo that curls under the collar of his t-shirt, before he pulls away. 

“Get in your crate,” he says, his voice heavy with promise. “All fours. Face down.” He lifts Mikey’s chin with two fingers, makes eye-contact. “Wait for me.”

Mikey yips again, and scrambles to comply. He wuffles at Gerard as he moves past, but he follows Frank’s instructions exactly, curling himself into his cage again and looking up at Gerard with wide, expectant eyes. 

It takes Gerard a second until he realizes that Frank is next to him, is offering him a hand up, and when he pulls Gerard up, he pulls him close enough that Gerard can feel the heat of his body. 

“C’mon,” he says, and Gerard lets him lead him out of the room.

They’re barely outside the door when Frank pushes him up against the wall, his hands tight on Gerard’s biceps. 

“ _Give your daddy some love_?” he asks, his voice rough and amused. “Really?” 

Gerard just swallows, stands there, a rabbit caught in the headlights, as Frank’s gaze crawls over him. 

“You want that?” Frank asks, leans in so the breath of his words brush against Gerard’s face. “You wanna call me daddy?” He runs his thumbs in circles, doesn’t let go of his hold for a second. “Cuz I can work with that.”

“Not in the slightest,” Gerard counters, hoping that the carefully neutral tone in his voice comes across as bored. “You’re projecting.”

“Mmm,” Frank hums skeptically, studying Gerard’s face with a curious expression. He’s close enough that Gerard can feel his breath, his mouth mere inches from Gerard’s. “I don't think I am.”

He knows Frank’s probably used to having the upper hand, but two can play this game, and Gerard is damned if he’s going to roll over for him like a well trained dog. “Do _you_ want me to call you daddy, Frankie?”

He feels, smells, _tastes_ the gust of air leaving Frank’s mouth before he even hears it. Frank holds his gaze for a few moments longer, before his eyes drop to where Gerard’s biting his bottom lip hard enough to ache.

There's a split second where Gerard feels like they're on the verge of something, the space between them electric with potential, before Frank shoves him hard against the wall, then steps back. “You should order pizza,” he says, his voice rough as gravel. “From Gino’s, not the place on the corner.”

“Yeah, sure,” Gerard calls after his retreating back, rubbing his biceps once the door shuts behind him. He presses into the soreness, wondering if there will be bruises in the morning.

He presses them again while he’s waiting for the pizza to arrive, as he’s carefully ignoring the noises coming from behind Frank’s closed door. He’s sure – nearly sure – that he hopes there are. 

He wonders how long it will take Mikey to notice them, wonders what Mikey will think of them, wonders what Frank will think. 

He slumps back on the sofa, bites back a groan. Above him he can hear the noises from Frank’s room, the dull, percussive thudding; Mikey’s voice a high counterpoint. He should have more self respect than this, but he doesn’t, and isn’t sure he wants to. He unzips his pants, takes himself in hand, brings himself off in time to the noises of Frank fucking his brother. 

It leaves him giddy, confused, and as he’s paying the delivery guy and trying to balance the pizzas to get them back into the house he’s still not sure if he’d been imagining he was Mikey or Frank as he came. 

—

He’s in New York the next day, out of the house before either of the others are up. It’s a long day, tiring in the way that only dealing with colleagues, dealing with the streaming mass of humanity that the city holds can be. 

His body is aching by the time he gets on the train that will bring him home and his soul feels raw, like an infected tooth, and it catches on everything, leaves him irritated by anything from the woman who ignores his scowl and takes the seat next to him to the chime of his phone letting him know there’s yet another message. 

It’s from Mikey, though, and that makes things better, or as better as they can be at least when he still has twenty minutes on the train and then however long it takes him to drag his sorry ass home from the station. 

_Fucking awful_ he fires back in response to Mikey’s text. _Home soon though_. He frowns at the screen, presses send, not sure what else he wants to say. 

_Love you_ he gets back. _Gonna make you feel better when I see you_.

It makes Gerard smile. _Always do_ he replies and then waits, but there isn’t another reply and the screen locks itself and Gerard drops the phone back in his pocket. 

He doesn’t bother looking up as he gets off the train, just keeps his attention focused on the two feet of concrete in front of him so that he doesn't get lost in the people and the crush, which is how he misses Frank until he feels a hand on his arm. 

Even then he doesn’t realize and he swings around, ready to defend himself against whoever’s assaulting him. But it’s Frank, and he has a stupid hopeful look on his stupid face and it takes the wind out of Gerard’s sails with a _woosh_ he can almost hear. 

“Bad day at the office, darling?” Frank says, and there’s an edge of sarcasm to the words, but under that nothing but warm concern. Gerard could cry.

“Something like that,” he says instead, and sees the understanding on Frank’s face. 

“Thought it might be.” Frank starts to walk and when Gerard falls into step next to him he jostles him with his shoulder. “So I brought the puppy with me and we’re going to the park to play before we bring you home.”

Mikey’s waiting in the back of Frank’s car, his face pressed to the window slightly-opened window and his eyes a million miles away until he notices Gerard and Frank. He’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, nothing out of the ordinary except for the collar around his throat and the fact that he doesn’t say anything when Gerard climbs in. 

Instead he moves forward, presses his face to Gerard’s neck, breathes in his scent, breaths out a wuffly, wordless greeting.

“Down,” Frank says, his voice stern despite the smile in his eyes, and Mikey fucking _whines_ as he moves back in his seat. “You wanna go to the park, don’t you, boy?” He looks at Mikey, raises an eyebrow, eloquent in his displeasure. “Or maybe you don’t.” 

Mikey whines again, and Frank’s mouth twists. Gerard is fairly sure he’s doing his best not to smile. “You wanna go to the park, boy, you gotta let me know,” Frank says, and then when Mikey takes a breath as if he’s going to say something, he holds his finger up, stares at Mikey. “Puppies don’t use words,” he says, a dark glee to his tone. “Puppies _bark_.” 

Mikey’s head falls back against the seat and Gerard can feel the humiliation and arousal radiating off him in waves. For a second it’s weird, almost uncomfortable to watch, but then Gerard notices the hard line of Mikey’s cock in his pants and something in him uncoils. He settles back in his seat, eyes fixed on Mikey, waiting to see what he does next.

“Woof,” Mikey says, enunciating the word clearly. “Bark. Ruff.” 

“Really?” Frank sounds interested rather than angry. “This is the game you want to play? Because I can bring you home now, boy.” He looks at Gerard, smiles in a way that has nothing to do with humour. “You want Gee to see what happens when you play games with me? You want him to watch?”

Mikey whines and Frank nods, satisfied. 

“I’m asking again,” he says. “For the last time: do you want to go to the park?”

The look Mikey gives him is equal parts humiliation and resentment and desire, but then he blinks, opens his eyes, and it’s gone. He barks. 

“Good boy,” Frank says, his voice warm. “Isn’t he a good boy, Gee?”

“The best,” Gerard says, “the very best.” And he means it. 

He’s kind of expecting Mikey to run off when they get to the park, but he doesn’t. Frank opens the door for him, clicks his fingers, and Mikey sticks to his shoulder like glue. 

They walk through the park together, and there’s a breeze that stirs Gerard’s hair, and it’s peaceful, and he can feel the tight knots of the day start to loosen. 

“Here,” Frank says at last, and he pulls a frisbee from his jacket. “Hey, Mikey.” He weighs it in his hands, smiles as Mikey tracks it with his eyes. “Fetch.”

He throws the frisbee, flicking it expertly across the park and Mikey is off like a shot, leaping to catch it, snatching it from the air with eager hands and rolling as he catches it and hits the ground. 

He’s grinning by the time he gets to his feet and Gerard can see the mischief in his eyes.

“He’s not going to bring that back,” he says to Frank and Frank grins, evil.

“Oh, he’d better.” Frank looks at Gerard, raising an eyebrow. “If he knows what’s good for him.”

He whistles, piercing and loud, and Gerard can see the thoughts playing across Mikey’s face, sees obedience warring with the desire to be a little shit. 

It’s _fun_ whatever he decides. As Gerard flops to the grass, watching Mikey run back, hand the frisbee back to Frank and heading off to chase it again, he thinks he understands why Mikey’s willing to do this, why Frank is. 

He’s content to watch, though. To feel the sun on his face, to listen to Frank’s rough laughter, to watch them both breathlessly enjoying a game of frisbee that seems almost innocent from the outside. 

It’s not, though, but the difference is subtle. It’s in the way Frank chases Mikey and wrestles him for the frisbee; it’s in Frank’s hand on the back of Mikey’s neck as he forces him to hand over the frisbee again; it’s in a hundred little things, and Gerard realizes with a shudder of pleasure that he’s the only one in this whole park who sees this – that he’s the only one who _ever_ gets to see this. 

The thought makes him smile, and he’s still smiling as Frank skims the frisbee low over the grass, sending Mikey racing after it, as Frank comes and collapses next to him on the grass. 

“Hey,” Frank says, and Gerard smiles at him, relaxed and loose. He’s pulled his jumper off, too warm to wear it, and he sees Frank’s face when he catches sight of the bruises Frank’s fingers left on his biceps last night. “Hey.” He runs a finger carefully over the marks, looks up at Gerard, biting his lip. “You bruise easier than your brother. Anything you want to call me?”

He’s so hopeful that it makes Gerard laugh. “You’re a bit obsessed about this,” he says, watching as Mikey runs back towards them, the frisbee in his hands. “Is there anything you want to ask me to call you?” 

“Really?” Frank shakes his head, grinning. “This is how you want to play it?” 

Gerard shrugs, suddenly dangerously happy, content. “You started it,” he says. “This is your game… Frankie.” 

The look that Frank gives him suggests he doesn’t agree, but before he can say anything, Mikey flops down on the grass next to them and holds out the frisbee, grinning.

“Is this any way to show your respect?” Frank asks, but there’s a smile in his voice. “You should kneel for me, boy.”

It’s late now, the park’s nearly deserted, and Mikey looks around, checks how close anyone is and kneels up, holding the frisbee out to Frank with both hands, and Gerard sees how Frank’s eyes light up.

“Do puppies hold frisbees in their paws?” He stands up, takes the toy from Mikey, holds it just out of his reach. “Or do puppies use their mouths?”

Gerard sees the shudder that runs through Mikey’s body, the moment he surrenders. He stretches up, reaches for the frisbee with his teeth showing, his arms down by his sides, and Frank laughs. 

“Lazy puppy,” he says. “I’m being too soft with you.” He ruffles Mikey’s hair with his free hand. “I should make you work for this.”

Mikey blinks up at him, all puppy dog eyes and soulful looks, and whines and Frank grins, delighted, dips his hand enough that Mikey manages to catch the edge of the frisbee. They play tug for a minute, Frank laughing and Mikey mock growling, until someone walks into their part of the park, their own dog on a leash. 

“Orange,” Frank says, and Mikey drops immediately to the grass, nothing more that some guy who’s been playing frisbee with his friends. 

Except that Frank tells him “good pup,” and when the man and his dog have gone, he fixes Gerard with a look.

“You ready to go home?” he asks. “I thought I could teach you some of his commands. If you wanted.” 

It isn’t something that Gerard’s ever really considered he wanted, but he remembers Mikey pushing into his hand, thinks about how responsive he is to Frank’s whistles and clipped comments and he nods. 

Frank’s smile, as they walk back to the car, looks like triumph. 

Mikey’s naked almost before they’re through the door, shedding his clothes in a haphazard scramble, and haring towards the living room. 

Frank shakes his head, fond and tolerant and picks the clothes up as he follows.

“It’s worth giving him a minute,” he tells Gerard as he picks Mikey’s sweatpants off the bannister and folding them. “Gives him a chance to get his head together, to decide what he wants to get out of it.” 

“What does he want to get out of it?” Gerard asks, because he’s seen how Mikey uses it a bit, how it relaxes him, how it’s made his anxiety easier to cope with, but he knows that Frank’s going to see things differently. 

Frank frowns, considering, as he puts the neatly folded pile of clothes at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Depends,” he says at last. “Sometimes it’s playful, like it was in the park. Letting off steam, you know? Sometimes it’s about affection and touch and being told he’s good.” He looks at Gerard, raises an eyebrow. “He doesn’t often need that from me. It’s more likely to be play or sex or discipline he wants.” 

“And you do that?” Gerard asks. “Sex and discipline?”

Frank nods. “He can be a bratty little bitch sometimes. Wants a firm hand to hold him down and show him who’s boss.”

The image the words conjure is visceral, and Gerard licks his lips, picturing it. 

“What?” Frank steps close to him, crowds him, his smile sharp. “You interested in that?”

The words snap Gerard back to himself, and he laughs. 

“You don’t have your hands full already?” he asks, his tone carefully light, teasing. “You think you could handle two of us?” He looks at Frank, straightens up slowly, gently, until he’s using the full advantage of his height difference. “Or maybe you want someone who can look after you.” He puts his finger under Frank’s chin, tips his face up. “Or maybe you don’t know what you want.”

The moment builds between them, stretches until the tension is almost tangible, and this time it’s Frank who looks away. 

“Mikey,” he says, but Gerard notices that his voice is breathy, his cheeks slightly flushed. “I don’t want to leave him.”

“By all means.” Gerard steps back, theatrically gives Frank space to brush past. “Whatever you want, Frankie.”

He thinks that Frank will say something, is sure he wants to, but instead Frank goes into the living room, and Gerard hears his sharp intake of breath. 

“Mikey,” he says, his tone dangerous, and Gerard shakes himself, follows him into the room and has to stop and bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. 

Frank has a favourite chair – Mikey calls it his nest. It has a small table next to it, for Frank’s tea or beer, the pile of books he’s currently reading, or planning to read, his guitar propped up against it – and it’s a sacrosanct space, one that nobody touches, not Gerard, not Mikey, not the cleaning lady.

Except now Mikey is crouched on it, naked, and he is very deliberately chewing the cover of one of Frank’s books. Gerard isn’t sure he’s ever seen anything funnier in his life. 

He suspects that Frank feels the same way, but Frank can’t show that, of course, not in a flicker of his expression or a line of his posture. Instead he takes a deep breath, centering himself Gerard thinks, until he becomes a calm point of focus in the room – like a bomb that’s about to explode. 

“Mikey,” he says, his voice dangerous. “Mikey. Drop the book now and get down off my chair or there will be _consequences_.” 

Mikey looks at him, blinks, and takes the book hard between his teeth and shakes his head, like he’s trying to kill it, and Frank doesn’t even hesitate – he surges forward, grabs Mikey by the neck and pulls him to the floor. 

“Bad dog.” Frank’s tone is lethal, and Mikey drops the book, finally cowed. He blinks up, his big eyes and lower lip trembling, but Frank curls his lip in response 

“Not gonna wash,” he says. He points at a place on the floor about two feet from where Mikey is and clicks his fingers. “Drop.”

Mikey does, and Gerard can see the mingled apprehension and expectation on his face as Frank walks over to his nest with clipped steps and pulls a paddle out from the small drawer of his table. 

He holds it up and Gerard sees how Mikey is wholly focused on his hand, and walks across to the sofa, settles himself in, finally fixes his eyes on Mikey. 

“You have a choice,” he says, his voice steady. “You can come here on your own, and take what I give you quietly; or you can fight it and I will double the punishment.”

Gerard sees the bob of Mikey’s adam’s apple as he swallows, weighs his choices, and for a moment he thinks Mikey will fight it, will make Frank force the issue, but then he crawls slowly to Frank on his knees, presses his face to Frank’s boot, and honest-to-god _whimpers_.

Frank is unmoved though.

“Up,” he says. “Unless you want me to get you.” And Mikey grumbles in his throat as he climbs onto Frank’s knee, splays himself out for Frank’s mercy. 

Frank puts his hand on Mikey’s ass and strokes it over it gently.

“Color,” he says and Mikey shakes his head, buries his face in the cushions of the sofa. Frank stills his hand. “Mikey? Color.”

“Green,” Mikey says an edge of desperation to his voice and Frank lifts his hand and smacks him, open-palmed and shocking. 

The first ten strokes are hard and fast and by the end of them Gerard can hear the pant of Mikey’s breath. Frank pauses after that, runs his hand over the slightly pinkened skin. “You know what to say if you want me to stop,” he says, and hits Mikey again, a flurry of blows that Gerard can’t count, with no rhythm or pattern to them at all. 

They last for minutes, and by the time Frank is done Gerard can see how warm Mikey’s skin is, can hear the high whine of his voice through it all. But Mikey is being good, is staying still – at least until Frank starts running his nails over the pink skin and Mikey can’t seem to help it, he _writhes_. 

Frank lets him move, his face as interested as if he’s conducting an experiment, until Mikey makes a noise that could pass as a giggle. He stops, suddenly and completely, and Mikey moans. 

“I’m gonna use the paddle,” Frank says conversationally, and Gerard realizes that Frank is talking to him. “He’s playing up because he wants this.” He picks up the paddle, runs it over Mikey’s skin. “Frankly, I think he wants you to see him being properly punished.” 

Mikey makes a bitten off noise and Frank raises the paddle, brings it down sharply on Mikey’s ass. 

“Something to say?” he asks, his voice aggressively pleasant. “Cuz I think this is what you were after, Mikey-love.” 

He hits Mikey again and again, a steady pattern this time, and Gerard can see the difference in the blows, how the pink of Mikey’s skin darkens, becomes red as Mikey’s breathing becomes louder and he digs his nails into Frank’s leg as he fights to stay still. 

“You want Gee to see you like this,” Frank says to Mikey, “don’t you? You want him to see what you’re really like. You want him to watch you.”

“No,” Mikey says, his voice a sob, and Frank smiles.

“No? Really?” He lays another series of blows over Mikey’s ass and the tops of his thighs. “You sure about that, Mikes? You wanna safe word out of this?” 

Mikey pushes himself up slightly on his elbows, shakes his head, and Gerard sees that he’s crying, tears tracking down his cheeks. 

“Maybe you think you can get away with things because he’s here?” Frank asks. “Maybe you think he’s gonna save you?”

Mikey shakes his head again, but he looks up at Gerard, and Gerard can’t stay out of this. 

“Hey.” He goes down on his knees by Mikey’s face. “Hey, Mikes.”

Frank pauses his strokes, and Mikey looks up again. Gerard strokes his fingers across his face, catching his tears, wiping them clean away while Mikey shivers slightly at the touch. 

He’s aware of Frank’s gaze on him, like a tangible weight, but he doesn’t look up, doesn’t look anywhere but Mikey’s eyes. 

“You need to let Frank do this,” he says when he’s sure Mikey’s focused on him. “He’s trying to help you, Mikes. And you…” He catches another tear on his finger. “You know you need this.” He takes a deep breath. “You know you’ve been… _bad_.”

Mikey flushes a deep, humiliated red, but he nods, and Gerard is so proud of him right now – proud and horrifyingly turned on.

“Give Frank a color,” he says, and Mikey gasps out “ _Green_.” 

He stays with Mikey though, as Frank starts hitting him again, links his fingers with Mikey’s and lets him hold on, feels Mikey’s panting breaths, hears the harsh smack of the paddle against Mikey’s skin. 

It feels like forever, like no time at all before Frank is done and Gerard swings himself around to see. 

Mikey’s ass is red – parts of the skin are livid – and Gerard hesitates, his hand scant millimetres away from the marks as he looks at Frank.

“Can I?” he asks, and Frank nods. 

He pets Mikey gently and Mikey groans, trying to twist away from the touch, but Gerard can’t stop. Mikey’s skin is warm and the noises he’s making are intoxicating and…

“I think that’s enough,” Frank says, his voice gentle, and Gerard does, pulls away and goes to sit on Frank’s chair, in Frank’s space. 

“Are you ready now?” Frank asks Mikey. “You wanna show Gee what you can do?” 

Mikey nods and scrubs his hands over his face. 

“Okay,” Frank says. “Down.” 

Mikey scrambles to comply and he kneels in the middle of the floor. He’s hard and his eyes are pink from crying but his attention is fixed on Frank, and something relaxes in Frank’s posture, in his face, and he smiles. 

“Roll over,” he says and makes a rotating motion with his index finger.

There is a second where Gerard is not sure that Mikey will comply and then he does, and it’s stupid, ungainly, impossibly hot. 

Frank waits until he’s back on his knees again before he leans forward. 

“Give your paw,” he says and extends his hand, palm up, before Mikey. 

He smiles when Mikey does, looks over at Gerard. 

“Isn’t he clever?” he asks, and Gerard nods. 

“So clever,” he says. “What else can he do?”

Frank looks at him as if gauging how serious he is. “There are a few commands that you’ll find useful,” he says. “If you want to play with him without me, that is.” 

Gerard is aware of Mikey’s eyes on him, but he ignores him, nods at Frank. 

“Okay.” Frank cracks his knuckles. “Sit is probably the most useful. I try and use words and gestures – it makes it easier for him to understand.”

“So what’s the gesture?” Gerard asks and Frank smiles. 

“Point at him,” Frank says. “Use your index finger and just point and says sit.” He looks at Mikey, at the straight lines of his correct posture and he smiles. “C’mere.” He snaps his fingers and Mikey moves forward, lets Frank pet him. Frank indulges him for a few seconds before he leans back, points at Mikey. “Sit,” he says, and Mikey does.

“Good boy.” Frank’s voice is warm, all the coiled anger of earlier forgotten, and Gerard can see how Mikey flowers under the attention, the praise. Frank snaps his fingers again and holds his hand out and Mikey moves out of his posture for more pets, pushing into the touch unashamed and happy. 

“You want to try?” Frank asks, and Gerard nods his head, more nervous than he expected he would be. 

“Snap your fingers and call him then,” Frank says. 

Gerard inhales, tries to remember that this is okay, that Mikey can call time out whenever he wants. 

“Here, boy,” he says, and snaps his fingers, and he’s almost shocked, certainly happy as Mikey obeys the command and crawls towards him. 

And it’s like in the park again, it’s _fun_. Frank teaches him how to make Mikey sit, to drop, to go to a certain spot, and it’s playful, funny. Mikey’s tongue lolls out when he moves, and he pants, and it really is like having an overgrown puppy in the house, anxious to please, to know his place in the pack. He’s unguarded in his affection and movement and is a million miles away from the cool, contained Mikey that Gerard knows, with his unruffled exterior and his head full of neuroses. 

He can understand why Mikey wants to be like this, why Frank makes this space possible, and as he plays tug with Mikey and a rag toy, he decides that he’ll do what he can to help as well. 

Gerard is smiling, wide and free, by the time they’re done and Frank looks at him speculatively. 

“Hey,” he says. “Mikey?” He clicks his fingers and Mikey looks towards him. “Why don’t you show Gerard your special trick?” He grins, his eyes bright with mischief, and Gerard feels the breath catch in his throat. 

He doesn’t get any more warning than that before Mikey crawls over to him, pushes his head on Gerard’s knee. It’s different, less innocent, to the other times he’s had Mikey close like this, and he grips the arms of Frank’s chair, wonders what he should say. 

It doesn’t seem to bother Mikey, he pushes his face into Gerard’s crotch, sniffing and making vaguely conversationally puppy noises while Gerard’s knuckles whiten and Frank’s grin grows to monstrous proportions. 

“He can’t work fasteners,” Frank says at last, when Gerard is fairly sure he’s about to actually go mad. “He’s a puppy.” 

He swings himself off the sofa, moves graceful and slowly enough that Gerard has a chance to tell him to stop, until he’s kneeling down next to Mikey. 

“He needs help,” Frank says, and reaches out, puts his hands on the buckle of Gerard’s belt. 

He leaves his hands there though, doesn’t move them until Gerard nods, and then he pulls the belt loose, undoes the button at the stop of Gerard’s fly. His hands are shaking slightly, and Gerard is so hard right now he hurts. 

Frank licks his lips and starts to pull the zipper of Gerard’s pants down torturously slowly. Gerard wants to say something, to unzip himself, but in the face of Frank’s eyes he _can’t_ , he has to sit still and take what he’s given. 

He hisses when Frank finishes unzipping him and reaches into Gerard’s pants to pull his cock out.

“I do this with Mikey when he’s like this,” Frank says, from his spot between Gerard’s spread thighs. “But I don’t think you will.”

He shrugs, lets go of Gerard’s cock and watches avidly as Mikey licks and mouths at it.

It’s a lot, almost too much. Mikey’s enthusiasm and Frank’s scrutiny, and Gerard could fall apart from this – is unravelling too quickly in any case.

His breathing is erratic, he might be moaning, when Frank puts his hand on Mikey’s neck and pulls him off. 

"Got a word you want to say?" he asks Gerard, his voice rough, and Gerard swallows, tempted by the look of devilment in Frank’s eyes as much as he is by the sheen of spit on Mikey’s swollen, pink lips.

But he can’t say it – won’t say it like this, and in the end he shakes his head, a tight angry motion, and Frank smiles at him, wide and evil.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m done.” He kisses the side of Mikey’s face, strokes his fingers down the side of Mikey’s throat. “Be good for Gerard, okay?”

Mikey blinks at him, confused, but Frank is standing up, his hands spread wide, all faux innocence and genuine devilry.

“It’s your night with him,” he says. “I’m sure you can take it from here.”

He sashays from the room, moving like he knows they’re watching. They are, of course, and Gerard waits until he hears him on the stairs before he puts his hand on Mikey’s shoulder, pulls him onto his knee. 

“Hey,” Mikey says, his voice soft and welcome after such a long silence. “No more puppies tonight, right?”

It’s a relief, and Gerard nods. 

“It’s fun playing with puppies,” he says, “but…”

“Yeah.” Mikey kisses his nose. “I knew you wouldn’t be into that.”

Gerard feels himself blushing. “And yet…” he starts, thinking about his response to Mikey going down on him five minutes before.

Mikey laughs, soft and warm. “That wasn’t the puppy thing,” he says, tipping Gerard’s face up so he can look into his eyes. “That was Frank, wasn’t it?” 

Gerard groans and hides his face in Mikey’s shoulder. “Maybe,” he says, and lets the word get muffled. 

Mikey chuckles and strokes his head, twists his fingers in Gerard’s hair. 

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You do know that, don’t you?” He pulls at Gerard’s head until he can see his face again. “I think you guys would be good together.” 

“You just want threesomes,” Gerard says, and it makes Mikey giggle. 

“Well,” he says, doing his best to look angelic. “I’m hardly going to say _no_ , am I?” He rubs his fingers against Gerard’s scalp, looks down at him, fond. “But it might not work out like that, and we don’t have to anyway.” 

“Yeah.” Gerard links his hands around Mikey’s waist, pulls him closer. “I don’t know, Mikes. What if I fuck this up?”

“Your thing with Frank?” Mikey kisses his forehead. “I don’t think you will, but if you do we’ll cope.”

“But what if it messes everything up?” Gerard asks, his voice tiny because this is the thing that’s been preying on his mind. “What if it messes things up for you and Frank as well?” 

“I won’t let it,” Mikey says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “We’re family…” He puts his finger on Gerard’s lips, stops him from saying all the things he is about to say. “We’re already family. If you and Frank get together, if you, me, and Frank get together, it’ll change things, but it won’t change _that_. I won’t let it.”

And he won’t, Gerard realizes. His beautiful, brave brother never lets anything stop him, not anxiety, not addiction, not fear of what other people might think. 

He puts his hand on the back of Mikey’s neck and pulls him into a lingering kiss that still leaves him breathless, no matter how familiar it has become. 

“You’re amazing,” he tells him. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“I’m a grown man who pretends to be a puppy,” Mikey says, his voice arch. “You have a strange definition of amazing.” 

It makes Gerard frown. “You found a way to cope with things without drinking or drugs,” he says as carefully as he can. “Mikes, you’re amazing whatever you do, and I love watching you be a puppy.” 

Mikey looks at him, sceptical, and Gerard pets his sides, wanting to reassure him. 

“You should see yourself,” he says. “You’re this giant _goofball_ , and you think I don’t know how hard that is for you? You have any idea how happy it makes me to see you relaxed? To see you playing?” He looks Mikey dead in the eye. “You’re amazing, Mikey, and there’s nothing you can say and nothing you can do that will ever persuade me otherwise.”

It makes Mikey blush, but he nods, and Gerard will take that. 

“I’m not Frank,” he says, “but if you ever need it, if you ever want to, I’d play with you like a puppy, Mikes.” 

“I know.” The look that Mikey gives him is fond, full of warmth, and Gerard finally relaxes. 

“What do you need?” he asks, because Mikey is still naked, has been playing for hours. “What do you need right now, Mikes?” 

Mikey raises an eyebrow at him.

“You mean we’re not going to make a performance of fucking for Frank?” he says, and there’s an edge to the words that Gerard can’t place.

“I do that?” Gerard stops, thinks about it. “Shit. I do that.”

“Sometimes.” Mikey shrugs. “I don’t mind. You make it good for me.” He grins at Gerard. “You always make it good for me.”

“That’s not what I mean to do,” Gerard says before honesty makes him add. “I mean, not usually.” 

It makes Mikey laugh, and he bends forward and kisses Gerard. 

“You’d stop if I asked,” he says. “And I never said I didn’t like it.”

“Still…” Gerard traces Mikey’s lips. “What do you want to do this evening? You can have whatever you want.”

Mikey quirks his head to the side and looks at Gerard, serious. “Can we go to bed?” he asks at last, the faintest edge of hesitation to his voice, like he’s asking for something deviant, something he shouldn’t want. “Can you jerk me off? And I’ll jerk you off. And then,” he blinks, inhales, “can we read comics in bed till it’s time to sleep?”

Gerard looks at him for a second. Of everything he’s seen Mikey do over the last few weeks, the hundreds of instances of fear and courage, he suspects this is the one that has cost Mikey the most. This isn’t what he thinks Gerard wants, this isn’t making someone else happy, it’s what _he_ wants, and that alone has Gerard nodding. 

“Of course,” he says. “Of course, Mikey. That sounds perfect.” 

Mikey smiles, radiant and warm, and pulls Gerard up. “C’mon then,” he says, tugging Gerard behind him by the wrist and not letting him go until he can tumble him onto the bed. 

“Hey.” Gerard catches Mikey, pulls him down next to him. “Hey, you.”

He kisses Mikey like he can’t get enough of him, bites his lips, swallows the breathless moans he makes, while Mikey strips him, throwing his clothes off the bed without opening his eyes to check where they fall. 

“Hey,” he says again, as he reaches down and wraps his hand around Mikey’s cock, as Mikey wraps his hand around Gerard’s, and they jerk each other off, rough and slightly uncoordinated, breathing damp and hot into each other’s mouths. 

It’s not enough to stifle the noises that Mikey makes though, beautiful open-mouthed moans and whines that Gerard tries to swallow until he realizes what he’s doing.

“It’s okay,” he says, breathless himself now. “You don’t have to perform.” 

Mikey grins, wicked.

“Said I didn’t mind,” he whispers in Gerard’s ear, and then, much louder, “oh, God, Gee…”

And the beauty of it is, he’s not faking. He comes over Gerard’s fist, speeds his own strokes until Gerard follows him, groaning his own release into the soft skin of Mikey’s collarbone. 

And when they’re done, when Gerard’s fished out an old t-shirt and wiped them both clean, and they're lying together in each other’s arms, it’s dangerously close to perfect. 

“Hey?” Mikey’s chin is boney on his chest, but Gerard doesn’t care. “Pass me a comic?” 

Gerard reaches around him and snags a couple off the to-read pile. 

“These do?” he asks and hands Mikey one, trying to focus on what the other one is. 

“Yeah.” Mikey sounds thoughtful, and Gerard looks down at him. Raises an eyebrow. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” he says, expecting a laugh, but Mikey just looks at him with serious eyes. 

“You want me to head next door?” he asks at last. “Ask Frank if he wants to come read with us?” 

Gerard freezes, picturing them together, reading in his bed. It feels big, impossibly big, but Mikey’s there, will be there. He nods and Mikey smiles, small and tight as he gets out of bed and pads to the door. 

Gerard can hear him talking to Frank next door, can hear the rise and fall of their voices, but he doesn’t make out their words – is very careful not to. Instead he focuses on the comic in his hands, tamps down all his hopes and fears and thinks about superheroes instead. And he’s successful enough that when the door opens he startles, unprepared, and is probably showing too much on his face when Mikey walks back in, Frank in tow. 

They’re kind though, kind enough not to say anything. 

“Shove over,” Mikey says, and they press together, too crowded in the double bed, but fitting nonetheless, and Mikey plucks the comic from Gerard’s hands, picks up his own and leaves Gerard to find another one to read. 

They read in silence, only broken by the turning of pages and, eventually, Mikey’s soft snores as he falls asleep. 

Gerard feels the change in the bed when Frank notices. He looks over Mikey to see Frank looking at him. 

“I should go to bed,” he says, and Gerard feels curiously bereft. 

“You don’t have to go,” he says, even though he’s not quite sure he believes that, and for a few seconds it looks like Frank is considering staying. 

In the end though, he shakes his head. 

“Probably best if I don’t,” he says, reaching around Mikey to put his fingers on Gerard’s bare shoulder. “Some other time though.”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, watching as Frank gets up, as he tucks the blanket around Mikey, as he presses a kiss to Mikey’s sleeping forehead. 

Gerard catches his breath then, unable to look away from Frank, from the curls of his tattoos over bare skin, from the yoga pants slung low on his hips. 

“So,” he says when the silence has stretched on too long to be easy. “Um… good night?”

It comes out as a question, when that hadn’t been his intention, but Frank smiles at him, gentle and a bit unsure. 

“Night,” he says, and he leans forward, kisses Gerard’s cheek, clumsy and quick, and then he’s gone, the door shutting gently behind him. Mikey snuffles sleepily and presses closer into Gerard. 

—

It’s a few days later when he’s struggling, lost in a plot point and characters who won’t do what they’re damn-well meant to, when he’s interrupted by his phone ringing. 

He reaches for it without looking, presses answer. 

“Hi,” he says. “It’s Gerard.”

“Hey.” It takes him a second to place the voice – it isn’t one he’s used to hearing over the phone – but when he does, he smiles.

“Hey, Frankie.” He can’t hide the warmth in his tone, doesn’t want to. “How’re you doing?”

“Busy.” Frank sounds wryly amused. “I’m gonna need you to walk my dog for me. I’m stuck here late, and I’ve got band practice after work.” 

_And Mikey’s having a bad day_ he doesn’t say, but then he doesn’t need to. Gerard’s betting he got the same text that Frank did at lunch. 

“Okay,” he says. “What should I do?”

“Bring him on a walk,” Frank says, and Gerard picks up the sound of other mechanics in the background, understands Frank can’t talk freely right now. “Doesn’t have to be long, just around the block or something. Give him some food. Play with him if you want, or just put him to wait in the crate until I get back.” 

“Sure.” Gerard’s nodding, even though there is no chance of Frank seeing him. “I’ll take good care of him for you, Frankie. We’ll see you later.” 

It’s the first time Frank’s asked him to do anything like this, anything without him, which is probably why Gerard finds himself sitting on the bottom step for ten minutes before Mikey gets home, a collar and leash in his hands and his heart in his mouth. 

And maybe he would have realized that Mikey needed this even without Frank’s call, because when Mikey pushes the front door open he looks _defeated_. 

“Hey.” Gerard looks at him, watches how Mikey’s face changes when he sees him, watches how his eyes are drawn to the drape of the leash over his knuckles. “Hey, boy. You ready for a walk?”

Mikey doesn’t answer. He very deliberately closes the door behind him, swings his backpack off his shoulder. Then he shrugs out of his jacket, hangs it on his hook, closest to the door. He straightens the arms of it, rolls his shoulders, stretches out his neck from side to side. Only then does he walk over to Gerard, his head upright, his eyes fixed on Gerard’s, and slowly, carefully, sinks to his knees in front of him. 

It’s one of the most profoundly trusting things that Gerard has ever seen and he can’t help it, he reaches out and cups Mikey’s cheek, ready to call this whole thing off if that’s what Mikey wants. 

But Mikey closes his eyes, bends over, presses his face to Gerard’s feet and _whines_ and Gerard is lost. 

“Are you going to be good?” he asks, tracing his fingers over the back of Mikey’s head. “Are you going to come for a walk with me? You gonna walk to heel? Or do I need the leash?” 

He sees Mikey’s head come up, sees the unabashed hunger in his eyes, knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mikey _does_ want the leash… but that he knows he can’t have it in public. 

“If you’re good,” he says, his voice shaking, “if you walk to heel around the block, you can have the leash when we get home, and I’ll play with you before I feed you dinner.” 

And Mikey is as good as gold. He trots next to Gerard for the whole time of their walk, slightly behind, slightly to his right, in the same position he walks with Frank. He even addresses a few remarks to Gerard when they pass people on the way, just like they’re two brothers, on their way somewhere, enjoying the last light of the sinking sun. 

When they get home, he pushes past Gerard, goes into the house, and Gerard finds him kneeling fully clothed in the middle of the living room. 

“Can I have the leash?” he asks, his eyes wide. “You said I could have it if I was good. I was _good_ , Gee.”

“You were,” Gerard says. “You were really good, Mikey.” He swallows. “You want it now? Or you want to take your clothes off first?” 

The look Mikey gives him is absurdly hopeful. “Can I?” he asks, and Gerard nods. 

He’s naked in less than no time, and he looks up at Gerard, vulnerable and wanting. 

“You’re so good,” Gerard says, and he kneels down next to Mikey, clips the leash on his collar. “Are you gonna crawl for me, boy?” 

Mikey does, lets Gerard lead him around the room on his knees until there’s a look of drifting calm on his face, until Gerard can tell that he’s forgotten all the problems of earlier – at least for the moment. 

“Are you hungry?” he says at last, and Mikey makes a yipping noise that Gerard interprets as agreement. 

He leads Mikey to the kitchen on the leash and points at a spot on the floor. 

“Stay,” he says, and Mikey does while Gerard hunts out the bowl from the cupboard under the sink where Frank had said he’d find it. 

He grilled some chicken earlier, and now he shreds it into pieces that Mikey can manage without using his hands and puts it into the bowl.

“Wait,” he tells Mikey, and Mikey does, even though he comes up into the posture he uses when he’s begging Frank for treats, even though he’s whining. He puts the bowl down in front of Mikey, makes him wait for the space of a few heartbeats. “Now,” he says, and Mikey wuffles happily and eats while Gerard watches, wondering why he doesn’t find it stranger, filled with something warm and comfortable instead. 

“Hey,” he says when Mikey is done. “I got work to do now, buddy. You want to stay like this and sit with me while I do it?” 

Mikey yips again and he crawls after Gerard as he goes to his desk, curls up at his feet while Gerard works, even falls asleep after a while, and that’s how Frank finds them when he gets home.

It’s a few seconds before Gerard realizes he’s there, might even take longer, but Mikey stirs sleepily and staggers to his knees. 

It makes Gerard look around, and he sees Frank in the doorway, a soft smile on his lips. 

“Hey, boys,” he says. Mikey gets up crawls over to him, letting Frank scratch his head. 

“Hey, d….arling,” Gerard says, just to see the look on Frank’s face. “How did practice go?”

“Not bad,” Frank says, but it’s a sign that he’s preoccupied that he lets the word go uncommented. “Gotta say, I’m not sure about this show on Saturday though.”

His mouth twists, and Gerard feels an answering tug in his chest. 

“Mikey’s eaten,” he says, because he can’t think of what else to say, “but I made some fajitas for you. They just need putting together if you want them.”

The look Frank gives him is unreadable, but at last he nods and Gerard gets up, brushes past him and Mikey and heads to the kitchen. 

He’s nearly done putting the fajitas together when Frank joins him, and he passes him a soda on his way past to the fridge. 

“So, tell me,” he says when his back’s turned and he’s occupied with the food. “What’s got you nervous about this show?” 

He hears Frank take a deep breath, and for a second he thinks Frank won’t answer, but then Frank does, starts talking in a low voice about how the guitar parts aren’t working, how the new drummer doesn’t fit, how he’s not sure why he ever thought he could be the frontman for a band. 

Gerard lets him talk himself out, knows there’s no point arguing yet, he just makes noises to let Frank know he’s listening, that he cares, while he finishes cooking and carries the food to the table. 

Then he pulls Frank into a hug, kisses his temple. 

“Come on,” he says. “Sit down and eat with me.” 

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice is shaky, but he follows Gerard. “Mikey, hey boy…”

MIkey’s been sitting in the corner of the kitchen, watching them talk, but now he snaps back to himself, stretching and pulling himself to his feet. 

“Yeah.” He brushes past Frank, kisses the top of his head. “I’m done being a puppy for now.” He pauses, as if he’s waiting for either of them to argue, and when they don’t he smiles. “I’m going to get dressed, then…” He nudges Gerard with his shoulder. “Let’s tell this doofus how wrong he is.”

He ambles out of the room, presumably in search of his clothes, and Gerard shrugs at Frank. 

“You heard what the man said.” He grins at Frank, conspiratorial. “Eat your dinner while we tell you how great you are and how much you’ll rock the hell out of this show.”

—

Normally Gerard avoids shows. It’s not that he doesn’t like the music, he does, but the crowds of people make him nervous, and he can’t settle at them – not since he gave up drinking enough to take the edge off. 

The problem is that one drink doesn’t do it, two don’t, and by the time the edge is off and he can relax, he’s prone to making the sorts of decisions that result in Mikey wearing a pinched frown and ignoring Gerard for weeks. 

In the end, it was an easy choice to make, and now Gerard doesn’t drink when he’s out, won’t drink when it feels like it’s the only way he can be part of things. It’s a worthwhile exchange, even if it means he’s stopped coming out like this. 

He doesn’t want to avoid this one, though. He wants to be there for Frank, wants Frank to see him from stage. So he ignores the bar and lets Mikey drag him to the front, trying to ignore the press of bodies around him in favour of Mikey’s hand on his wrist, the way their hips touch. 

And he’s glad he does it because Frank fucking _rocks_. All the tightly coiled potential and menace that Gerard’s glimpsed from time to time is given free reign on stage and it’s _magnificent_. 

They blaze through the first songs in a frantic whirl of energy that is mirrored right back to them by the crowd, and by the time they pause to take a breath Gerard is breathless from dancing, dripping wet, disgusting, pressed against the stage. 

He sees the moment that Frank notices him, the small half-smile he shoots Gerard before he leans back, mutters to the bassist, wanders back to his mic. 

“Hey.” He grins at the crowd. “Let’s play something slower, something new.” He strums a chord. “Something about falling in love and taking risks.”

They start to play, and Frank’s right – it’s slower, more melodic, completely different to the other things they’ve played so far. 

“I got my bags all packed,” Frank sings. “And i’m ready to go, I’m standing outside of your figurative door.” He looks down, meets Gerard’s eyes, looks back into the mid-distance like he’s told Gerard he does when he’s trying not to freak out about performing. “I’m ready for the flight or to fall off a cliff, but if it’s alright with you I’d rather not miss out on us.”

His eyes are still on Gerard, and Gerard’s hot and can’t breathe and it’s only Mikey sliding his arm around him that keeps him in place. 

“It’s… he…” Gerard can’t seem to says the words, and he feels Mikey shrug. 

“He played it for me last night,” Mikey says. “Just listen.”

He pins Gerard in place, makes him stay, makes him watch as Frank lays out all his fears and hopes for everyone to hear, and he _can’t respond_. 

It feels like the song lasts forever, even if objectively he knows it can’t, like a million years pass before Frank finishes singing and gives the sign to the drummer and they launch into something upbeat and furious that has Frank hurling himself around the stage like fear and uncertainty and pain are things that only ever touch other people. 

The rest of the show passes in a blur of music and dancing and frustration because Frank is so close and yet so far away. 

They pile to the bar afterwards, and Gerard hangs back while Mikey gets him a coke. It’s calmer now the show’s done, and he thinks he can cope with this. 

“Hey.” Frank’s voice startles him and he almost catches Frank with his elbow as he spins around. “Hey, calm down, Gee.” Frank puts his hand on Gerard’s arm, a warm point of contact that draws the whole of Gerard’s attention. “You enjoyed the show.”

“Yeah. I mean, I did, I mean…” Gerard pauses, takes a breath. “You were fucking _incredible_ out there.” He trails off, not able to find the words for how he’s feeling. “I just…”

“Yeah.” Frank smiles, like they’re sharing a joke. “I get it.”

“I…” Frank’s eyes are dark, dancing with mischief and Gerard is breathless, unable to look away from them. “Frank, that song…”

“Which one?” Frank asks, but he tightens his hold on Gerard’s arm, and Gerard doesn’t know what to say, torn between the truth and this game they’re playing. 

He’s saved by Jarrod, the drummer in the group, who drags Frank off to talk to some people about a festival or march or something. Gerard isn’t quite sure. He’s still staring into space when Mikey appears with his drink, and it makes Mikey smile. 

“You have a _crush_ ,” he says, his voice a low singsong. “On a boy in a band and…”

“Shut up.” Gerard takes the drink off Mikey, takes a sip to hide the color rising in his cheeks. 

“No, no.” Mikey holds his hands up, his eyes wide and innocent. “He’s _dreamy_ , Gee. You gonna get his autograph later?” 

He’s expecting the smack before Gerard even moves his arm so he deflects it with less than no effort and flicks an ice-cube at him in retribution. 

“Seriously, though,” Gerard say when he’s stopped spluttering. “Do you mind?”

“Frank?” Mikey raises an eyebrow. “The song? No. Of course not.” He shoves Gerard with his shoulder. “We’ve talked about this, Gee. Stop worrying.” He glances over to where Frank is surrounded by a group of fans, is signing things and posing for selfies. “Anyway, you’ll be the prettiest trophy wife.” 

“Aww.” Gerard throws his arm around Mikey’s shoulders, ruffles his hair. “You know you’re far prettier than me.”

“Dudes. Are you guys seriously arguing about who’s the prettiest?” Gerard drops his arm guiltily, and turns around to find a very familiar cloud of wild hair. 

“Ray!” he says. “Dude. It’s been ages.” He looks around. “You brought Christa with you?” 

Ray shakes his head. “Couldn’t get a babysitter. She’ll be pissed she missed you, though. We’ve barely seen you at all recently.” 

It’s true. Gerard can count the number of times he’s seen Ray since his son was born on the fingers of one hand. He shrugs. 

“You got my number. We should arrange to meet up. Catch a movie or do some gaming or something.”

“Yeah.” Ray nods, his smile wide and warm. “You and Frank gonna join us, Mikey?”

“I’ll check when Frank’s free,” Mikey says, “but yeah. That’d be good.” 

“Cool.” Ray gestures at Gerard with his glass. “What about you? You got anyone you want to bring?”

Gerard can’t help the way his mouth twists, or the clench in his stomach. 

“No,” he says, fighting to keep his voice even, to hide how he’s feeling. “Too busy with work to find anyone. You know how it is.” He shrugs and hopes that Ray will leave it there. 

He’s out of luck, though. Ray shakes his head sadly, and claps Gerard on the shoulder. “That’s a shame,” he says. “You still live with your brother and his boyfriend?” He shakes his head again when Gerard nods. “I’d never be able to do it. Doesn’t it grate on you? All that domestic bliss when you’re on your own?”

There’s nothing Gerard can say to that. Ray is a friend from home. His mom knows Gerard’s mom. Their lives are too closely linked together for the truth to be an option. 

Instead he feigns nonchalance. “They’re not bad,” he says. “And with them there, at least I’m not lonely.” He pauses, sips his drink. “And it helps with the bills.” 

“Dude.” Ray shakes his head sadly. “I’m gonna get Christa to set you up with one of her friends.”

Gerard barely keeps himself from shuddering at the idea and he looks around, searching for some way to distract Ray. 

He finds it on the opposite side of the bar, where Frank is looking over at him, his lips wrapped around a bottle of beer, and Gerard has to swallow back the noise he wants to make. 

“You talked to Frank yet?” he asks. “You should let him know you enjoyed the show. He was worried as hell about this one.”

“Sure,” Ray says, pulling Gerard into a rough, one-armed hug. “But don’t think you’re getting out of dinner, ‘kay?”

Gerard nods, but he catches sight of Mikey’s face as Ray wanders over to Frank, of the concern on it, and he can’t cope with this right now.

“I need another drink,” he says. “Can I get you one?”

“I’m good.” Mikey waves his glass, still half full. “You… you want me to get the drink for you?”

He looks worried, and Gerard realizes that Mikey’s worried that he’ll start drinking. He shakes his head, grips Mikey’s wrist for a fraction of a heartbeat. 

“I’m fine.” He smiles at Mikey, willing him to believe him. “I just need a minute.” 

The crowds have mostly gone now, and it’s quiet at the bar. He doesn’t want any more sugar or caffeine and it takes the barman a few minutes to find some sparkling water, to get a slice of lime to go with it. By the time Gerard’s paid for his drink he’s calm enough to turn back to the room.

There are small groups of people nursing beers and chatting, and he steers clear of Mikey for the moment, drifts from group to group chatting to people until he’s collared by James, who wants to talk comics and games, and is good enough company that Gerard forgets he’s running and hiding and loses himself in the conversation. 

The time slips away and before he knows it, Mikey is slinging his arm around his shoulders, his fingers digging into Gerard’s shoulder just a touch too hard, letting him know that he’s noticed what Gerard’s been doing, that there’s a _Conversation_ in their future. 

“Time to go home,” Mikey says, smiling an apology at James, “before the belle of the ball over there passes out.”

Frank’s posture is tipsy-soft when they get him, and he leans on Gerard, pliant and warm as they leave the club and find a cab. 

“Hey,” he says as Gerard tries to hold him up while Mikey loads his guitar into the trunk. “You gonna kiss me yet, Gee? I wrote a song for you.”

It would be so easy to do it, so tempting to take Frank at his word, but Gerard is trying hard to be good here. 

“I know,” he says, and gives in to the small temptation to stroke Frank’s cheek. It might be a mistake; he shivers as Frank turns his face to press into the caress, his breath warm and damp on Gerard’s hand. “But I kinda want you to remember it in the morning when I do.”

Frank grumbles about it, but he lets Mikey and Gerard manhandle him into the cab, and is probably mostly asleep by the time they get home, only kept upright by the press of their bodies. 

He wakes up as they go upstairs though, and by the time they’re at the bedroom doors, he digs his heels in and refuses to go any further. 

“S’okay,” Gerard tells him. “Mikey’s spending the night with you. You won’t be alone.”

Frank shakes his head, and looks at Gerard, his eyes wide and wanting. 

“Can I,” his voice is low, hesitant, a million miles from who he was on stage. “I want…”

“What?” Mikey leans in, kisses him. “Tell us, Frankie. We can’t help unless you do.”

“Can I watch you?” Frank looks shy, embarrassed to be asking. “I want to watch you together.” 

Mikey kisses him again, lingering, gentle, and turns to look at Gerard. 

“Well?” he asks, and Gerard nods, his mouth too dry to talk. 

He lets Mikey push his bedroom door open, follows as Mikey leads Frank by the wrist into the room. 

There’s a chair by the bed that’s usually covered with clothes, but Mikey dumps these on the floor, moves it so it has a good view of the bed, and pushes Frank into it. He bends over, kisses Frank again – on the forehead, on each eyelid, on the lips – but pulls away before Frank can take hold of him, goes to where Gerard is and links their fingers. 

“What do you want to see?” Mikey asks. “What can we show you?”

Frank shakes his head. “I don’t care.” His voice is shaking slightly, but his eyes are dark, full of desire. “Whatever you do when I’m not there. I just…” There’s a look of open pleading on his face. “I want to see.” 

“Watch, then,” Mikey says, and he turns, takes Gerard’s face in his hands, and kisses him, gentle and thorough – like when it’s just them, like when they are going to take each other apart, like no one is watching. 

Mikey’s hands are firm on Gerard’s face, and although the touch is gentle, it is inexorable,and Gerard doesn’t want to fight it, not tonight. He lets Mikey lead him, lets him deepen the kiss, lets him bring Gerard to the point where he’s moaning into Mikey’s mouth, until he’s breathless. 

He moans again when Mikey pulls away, reaching after him, and Mikey catches his wrist, brings his hand to his mouth, kisses his fingers one after the other, reverent and tender. 

“I want to fuck you, Gee,” he says, his voice rough. “Tell me I can fuck you.” 

“Yeah,” Gerard says. “Yes. Mikey…” 

He hears Frank’s sharp intake of breath, but neither he nor Mikey react. Instead, Mikey strips Gerard with swift, economical movements, like he does every time they do this, like it’s just the two of them. 

He does kneel in front of Gerard to take his shoes off though, and Gerard looks up, sees Frank watching them, the sheer, open hunger on his face, the color high on his cheekbones. 

He wants to reach out to Frank, but he clenches his fists against the desire, and breathes. 

“Hey.” Mikey breathes the word into the skin at the crease of his thigh. “Gee. I need you to focus on me.”

He’s looking up through his lashes, his beautiful, familiar face serious and Gerard breathes again, reaches down and helps Mikey up. 

“Mikes,” he says, running his thumbs over Mikey’s cheekbones, trailing his fingers down so they catch on Mikey’s lower lip, bringing his hands down and starting to pull Mikey’s clothes off. 

It’s a relief, visceral and full-bodied, when he presses himself to Mikey’s naked body. Since the first time they were together, he’s loved this, this respite from the world. He could get lost in it, does get lost in it, in the warmth of Mikey’s embrace, the look in his eyes. 

He forgets about Frank, forgets about anything except for the way Mikey is pressing close to him, kissing him. He doesn’t care about power games, or what anyone might think. All he cares about is how this feels, how Mikey feels, and he lets himself respond, uninhibited and wanton; lets Mikey push him to the bed, lets his legs fall open, thrusts up seeking friction, contact… 

But Mikey pulls away, and even though Gerard knows it’s to find the lube, he whines, reaching for him. 

“Jesus.” Frank’s voice seems like it comes from a million miles away, and Gerard blinks, forces his eyes open, looks across to where Mikey is standing, lube in one hand, his other hand on Frank’s face. 

“Mikey?” he says, and slides across the bed, spreads himself out for Mikey and Frank to see. “C’mon.”

He reaches down, strokes his cock, lets himself shudder with the sensation. Across from him, he hears Frank gasp, and then Mikey’s back with him, his hands warm on Gerard’s thighs as he pushes his legs apart. 

“You sure?” Mikey asks, his fingers tracing a pattern that’s making a mess of Gerard’s mind. “Is this okay?”

All Gerard can do is meet Mikey’s gaze and nod, desperate for it, as Mikey slicks up his fingers and reaches out to rub them across the rim of Gerard’s ass. 

“We don’t do this often,” he says, and for a second Gerard is confused until he realizes he’s talking to Frank. “I usually like him to fuck me.”

His finger breaches Gerard, and he twists his wrist, spreading lube around, letting Gerard relax around him. 

“He’s good at that,” Mikey continues, his eyes fixed on Gerard’s, as if this isn’t affecting him, like his cock isn’t hard against Gerard’s leg. “He’s a really good fuck, has a fat cock that feels perfect in me.” He grins over his shoulder at Frank. “And you know how I like to be fucked.” 

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice is breathy, deep. “You’re a fucking whore for cock, aren’t you, Mikes?”

“Sometimes.” Gerard can hear the smile in Mikey’s tone. “Sometimes I like to fuck him. Finger him open so he’s all wet and desperate for me, and then slide into him.” 

He adds another finger, twists and presses until he finds Gerard’s prostate, until Gerard moans for him, makes all the noises he knows Mikey wants to hear. 

“He lets you?” Frank’s voice is barely a whisper, but Mikey hears it and nods. 

“He loves it,” Mikey says, and Gerard moans, not sure if he’s humiliated or turned on. “He loves it like you would, Frankie.”

Gerard can hear Frank’s breath catch, but Mikey ignores it, slides another finger into Gerard and turns his head to kiss the inside of his knee. 

“You ready?” he asks, and Gerard nods, pulls Mikey up and kisses him. 

“Fuck me,” he says, because he knows Mikey wants to hear this, knows Mikey wants Frank to hear this. “I need you in me, Mikey. Please…”

Mikey closes his eyes and pushes into Gerard, slow and steady and not stopping until he’s sunk fully into him. His eyes flutter open then, and he leans down, kisses Gerard like he’s desperate for it. 

He stays still for a moment, like he always does, letting himself _feel_ , letting Gerard adapt, and when he finally does start moving it’s long, slow strokes that stretch Gerard, that make him whine. 

He pushes up into Mikey, writhing until Mikey takes hold of his wrists, like he knew he would, and pushes him into the bed. 

“Frankie?” Mikey’s voice is very careful, all controlled desire and desperation. “Can you see over there? Or…” He looks Gerard in the eye. “Do you wanna come over here?” 

The thought has Gerard bucking up against Mikey, his cock smearing wetly against his stomach, and he could almost sob when he hears Frank get up from the chair, when he feels the dip of the mattress as Frank lies down next to them. 

Mikey kisses Gerard carefully and raises himself up so he can look at Frank. 

“Isn’t he beautiful?” he says, and when Gerard cranes his neck he can see Frank nod.

“He is.” Frank reaches out hesitantly, pausing his hand just before it touches Gerard’s face. “He always is.” 

“You saw him, didn’t you?” Mikey asks. “When you sang the song earlier.”

Frank’s eyes fall closed. He nods his head, and Mikey balances himself on one arm so he can move Frank’s hand that final fraction of an inch, so it touches Gerard’s face. 

“He wanted it so much,” Frank says, and Mikey sighs, starts to move again. “He wanted the song to be for him. He wanted to say yes. I could see it in his face.” 

“Yeah.” Mikey’s strokes are steady, maddeningly slow. “I had to hold him back.”

“I saw.” Frank tangles his fingers in Gerard’s hair. “I saw you hold him.”

Mikey laughs, and Gerard can feel it all the way through him. 

“Told you,” he says, and his voice is breaking now, shaking in a way that Gerard knows means he’s getting close. He clenches around Mikey until he gasps. “Told you you should have sung the fucking song to him at home.”

And Gerard imagines it, imagines Frank singing to him, just the stripped back melody and acoustic guitar, imagines Frank standing there afterwards, what his face would look like and he _can’t_. He pushes up into Mikey’s thrusts, turns his head so he can mouth at Frank’s hand. 

“Please,” he says. “ _Please_.” 

He feels Mikey’s fingers tighten on his arm, feels Mikey inhale. 

“Frank?” Mikey’s voice is gentle, insistent. “Jerk him off for me, yeah? Make him come.” 

Gerard hears the noise that Frank makes, and he could almost come from that alone, but he doesn’t get the chance. Frank reaches down, slides his hand between Gerard and Mikey and takes hold of Gerard’s cock. 

And his touch is impossibly different – rough callouses from the workshop and the guitar in place of Mikey’s soft fingers, his grip tighter, his stroke faster than Gerard is used to. 

But he can’t help it. It’s perfect and the contrast with Mikey’s slow pace, the careful force he’s using that’s shaking Gerard apart, and he can’t last, doesn’t want to, and he moans as he comes apart around Mikey’s cock, against Frank’s clever, wicked fingers. 

“Gee.” Frank’s voice is wrecked, his eyes wide and his face next to Gerard’s, and Gerard thinks _this is it_ , that Frank will kiss him, that they’ll find out what the end of their story gets to be, but Frank just licks his lips, brings his hand up, wet with Gerard’s come and sucks his finger into his mouth. 

It makes Mikey groan. 

“Jerk off,” he tells Frank. “Use his come as lube and fucking jerk off for me, Frankie.” 

And Gerard can’t help it, he watches, wide eyed, as Frank smears Gerard’s come over his cock and uses it to get himself off, timing his strokes with Mikey’s increasingly fast thrusts, until they come together, filling Gerard, overwhelming him. 

Mikey collapses on him after, kissing and mouthing at his jaw and Gerard holds him, runs his hands over his shoulders before he lets his hand flop down, reaching out for Frank. He can’t find him though, and when he looks up, Frank is watching them, an unreadable look on his face. 

He nudges Mikey, poking him until he looks up, sees Frank.

“Hey,” he says, and, still in Gerard, he reaches across, grabs Frank’s wrist, takes his hand covered in Gerard’s come – _Frank’s_ – and licks it clean.

It’s filthy and it’s perfect, and if Gerard was ten years younger he’d be hard again already. But he’s not, and he groans as Mikey rolls off him, reaches out again to Frank.

“I should go,” Frank says, just out of his reach, just too far away for him to touch, but Mikey shakes his head.

“Stay with us,” he says, “please.”

Frank bites his lip, clearly torn, and Gerard moves forward so he can bridge that final gap. 

“We gave you what you wanted,” he says. “Give us this?”

And Frank nods his head, hesitant and open, but it’s something. Mikey settles between them, and Gerard presses a kiss to his shoulder as he feels Frank take his hand. 

It’s what he wants, what they all need right now, and as he turns off the light, hears the sounds they all make as they settle in, fight for their share of pillows and blankets, he thinks that this might be the foundation they can build on in the morning. 

—

“So.” Frank looks up from his dinner and gestures at Gerard with his fork. “I wanna try a thing.”

“A thing?” Gerard blinks at him, confused. “Like a new recipe or…” Across the table, Mikey ducks his head, hiding his face. And, oh. Right. 

“Not quite.” Frank’s eyes flash, bright with mischief, and Gerard can't help himself. 

“Quorn,” he says. “You need to get more protein in your diet, Frank. It’s not good for you to…”

“It’s not about food,” Frank says carefully, and Gerard starts laughing, huge honking laughs. 

“You’re a dick,” Frank tells him, but his mouth twists in an almost-smile and he nudges Gerard’s ankle with his toe under the table. 

“Tell me then,” Gerard says. “What’s this thing you want to try?” 

“I think it’s time we got our little bitch bred by another pup.” Frank’s face is completely impassive and Gerard chokes on a mouthful of water, not sure if he’s joking or serious or mocking Gerard. 

“What do you mean _bred_?” he asks, unable to keep the edge from his tone. Across from him, Mikey flushes red to the roots of his hair, and Gerard has to take a deep breath, to shove his feelings back into the darkest corner of his mind so that he can be what Mikey needs right now. 

“A playdate,” Frank says, and there’s something in his voice that’s daring Gerard to make something of this. “With another pup and his owner, where…”

“Where you intend the other pup to fuck Mikey?” Gerard is careful this time. There’s no judgement in his words, just curiosity, and across from him Mikey relaxes infinitesimally. 

“Yes.” The word is bald, and for a second Gerard can’t breathe, can only wonder _why_ – why Frank would share Mikey when he has the choice not to, why he’d ever want this. “I’m gonna make him _desperate_ for it, Gee. He’ll be begging the other pup to fuck him.” Frank exhales, rough, and Gerard looks at him, sees the faintest tint of pink on Frank’s cheeks. “He’ll be fucking beautiful.” 

“Yeah.” Gerard looks at Mikey, how open, how _wanting_ he is already. He will be beautiful, Gerard knows this. He already is. “How are you gonna make him beg, Frankie?”

There must be something in his voice, because Frank looks at him, interest piqued and his defensiveness seemingly forgotten. 

“We’re going to do it, Gee. We’re gonna make him go all week without coming, and we’re gonna fuck him over and over – pass him back and forth between us like a fucking party favor until he’s hard all the time, until he can’t think straight.” 

The words hit Gerard like a punch to the gut and his mind fills with images he didn’t know he wanted until he saw them. 

“Yeah,” he says, and he sees emotions flicker over Frank’s face, too fast to read, until all that’s left is a split second of whole-hearted relief. And Mikey is looking up now, his face a picture of shame and desire, and Gerard’s seen enough of his dynamic with Frank by now to understand, just a little, what Mikey wants. “Can he do it though?” he asks. “Be fucked without coming.”

Frank laughs, assured and evil. “He knows better than to come without permission when I’ve told him not to.” He quirks an eyebrow at Gerard. “Even when he’s sobbing for it.” 

“Yeah.” The word is barely a breath. “He’s so fucking good when he tries.” He looks at Mikey, at the mingled shame and pride on his face, at Frank and the questioning lilt to his expression. “He’ll let me fuck him for hours, fingers and toys and my cock, and he’ll take it all.” He looks at Mikey, bites his lip. “Won’t you, Mikes?” 

Mikey nods his head, his eyes fluttering shut, and Frank meets Gerard’s eyes, bold and gleeful, and winks. 

“Does he come untouched for you?” he asks, and Mikey dips his head again, and yes. Gerard can play this game. 

“If he works at it,” Gerard says. “Edging him helps. Fingering him as well.”

“You’ll have to show me,” Frank says, because Gerard knows he’ll always raise the stakes, and he nods. 

“Maybe not this week,” he says, like it’s nothing, like it wouldn’t change everything. “But yeah. If Mikey would like that.” He looks over at Mikey. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

Mikey nods his head again, and if Gerard was a good man he’d leave it there. But Gerard gave up any claim to being a good man the first time he let Mikey kiss him, the first time he kissed him back. 

“Use your words,” he says. “Tell us, Mikey, or you don’t get it.”

“Yes,” Mikey says. “I want that.”

“What?” Frank picks up the questioning. “What is it you want Mikey?”

For a second, Gerard thinks they’ve pushed too hard, too far, that Mikey will close off, but then his eyes flash and he looks up, brave and bold and beautiful. 

“Yes,” he says. “I want Gerard to make me come without touching me while you watch. I want you to share me with strangers while Gerard watches. I want to fuck you both, and I want you both to fuck me.” He takes a deep breath, looks from Gerard to Frank. “I want to watch you fuck.” 

He stands up, the scrape of the chair on the kitchen floor very loud in the silence.

“Is that what you want to hear?” he asks, daring them to reply. “Because, yes. I want it. All of it. And I’ll do anything in my power to get it.”

He picks up his plate, puts it gently in the sink and leaves the room, leaves Frank and Gerard sitting there, staring at each other. 

“Should I…?” Frank says at last, gesturing after Mikey, but Gerard shakes his head. 

“Leave him. He needs a chance to process.” He watches Frank for a second, the way he’s chewing his lip, the furrow of his brow, his eyes still fixed on the door like he’s trying to see Mikey through the walls and rooms of the house. “This pup-date thing… is it safe?”

It makes Frank blink back to himself. “I’ll be there,” he says, like it answers the question. “And I’d like you to be as well.” He considers Gerard. “Mikey would like you to be there.” 

“But will it be safe?” Gerard can hear everything that’s showing in his voice, everything he’d prefer to keep hidden, and so does Frank. His face softens. 

“They won’t be using protection,” he says, “but they have papers to say they’re clean – just like Mikey does.” He reaches out, touches Gerard’s hand. “They take their health seriously – we all do, and I would never let Mikey get hurt.”

Gerard nods, small and tight, because he knows this – knows just how much Frank cares. He’d just needed to hear it said out loud. 

“What are they like?” He looks at Frank. “The other people who do this?”

“Like us.” Frank shrugs. “Freaks in their own way. They’ve got jobs and relationships. The couple we’ll be playing with next week are married. They got a kid, I think.” He grins at Gerard. “You’d like them if you met them in a bar.”

Gerard snorts, because, yeah, him liking strangers is not hugely likely, and Frank takes the point, squeezes his hand. 

“They’d like you, anyway,” he finishes, and Gerard can’t hold back his snort. 

“Yeah,” he says, and he can’t keep the edge of bitterness from his voice. “People just love loser creeps like me. They fall over themselves to get close.” 

“Loser?” Frank looks honestly baffled. “Creep? Gee, what the fuck do you mean?” 

He’s starting to sound angry, and Gerard pulls his hand away, frustrated. 

“I’m a recovering alcoholic in my thirties who fucks my kid brother,” he says. “I can’t talk to people, I don’t have colleagues, and the only person who chooses to hang out with me is my brother’s boyfriend.” His lips curls. “I’m a real fucking catch.”

Frank blinks at him for a second, and Gerard waits for the empty platitudes, but then Frank’s pushing himself up, moving faster than Gerard’s seen him move before, and Gerard blinks, confused, manages to inhale, to start to ask what’s happening. He doesn’t get any further; Frank shoves him, hard and shocking, and Gerard rocks back in his chair, speechless. 

“How dare you?” Frank’s voice is dripping venom. “How dare you dismiss Mikey like that? Dismiss me?” He stands back, his lip curling. “Well?” He’s all confrontation, and Gerard can’t answer, doesn’t know the words. 

He just shakes his head, mute and fighting to stop himself from rubbing the dull pain in his shoulder from Frank’s blow. Frank looks at him, his expression balanced between disgust and exhaustion. The moment holds for longer than Gerard thinks he can bear and then Frank sags like his strings have been cut, slumping back into a chair. 

“You think Mikey falls in love easy?” he asks, his voice raw. “You think I do?” He meets Gerard’s eyes, beaten and scarred and still upright – still living, still loving. “You think the people we fall in love with aren’t amazing – that they don’t _have_ to be to be worth the risk?”

Gerard shakes his head, bites back a tiny, broken noise that he never wants Frank to hear. But Frank does, because Frank hears everything, is seeing everything. 

He drags himself out of his chair again, walks around the table until he can push Gerard back in his seat, can perch on the table, his legs around Gerard’s, his hand on Gerard’s chin, pushing his head back so Gerard can’t escape, pinned by Frank’s body and his eyes.

“Gee.” The word is raw, and Gerard can feel how Frank is fighting for control, how he’s stripping away all Gerard’s defences one by one, laying them waste with his withering intelligence, his powers of observation. He can’t do it – he can’t watch Frank as he realizes Gerard is right, as he turns and walks away, disgusted. Gerard closes his eyes, hopes beyond hope that Frank isn’t seeing the tears he can feel running down his cheeks. 

He braces himself for it, for the moment this ends before it even begins, for the moment Frank leaves, but instead he feels the press of lips to his forehead, whisper-soft and warm, and his eyes fly open even as his heart sticks in his throat. 

“I’m not going to argue with you,” Frank says, but his eyes are kind now, and the pressure of his fingers on Gerard’s face feels gentle. “But you need to think about this, Gee. If you trust Mikey, if you trust _me_ , then you have to know that we love you for a reason.” He catches the expression on Gerard’s face, and his mouth twists, rueful. “You think you’re convenient? Because, dude. I hate to break this to you, but if I was after convenience I would have brought someone home from a club years ago.” He traces his fingers over Gerard’s lips, lets them catch, lets them pull Gerard’s mouth open like he’s fascinated by him. “I want you because you’re you, I love you because you’re you.” He meets Gerard’s eyes, unafraid and eyes wide open. “And so does Mikey.”

It’s almost too much, but Frank’s made his point, and Gerard can’t squirm away from this – not when it’s Mikey’s feelings on the line, not when it’s Frank’s. 

He reaches out, curves his hand around Frank’s leg, just below the knee. 

“Okay,” he says, then: “Sorry.”

Frank shrugs again, his fingers tracing patterns over Gerard’s face. “There’s no need to be sorry.” He looks at Gerard again, seeing past all his defences. “You never say this to Mikey, do you?” Gerard shakes his head and Frank’s mouth twists. “Relationships go both ways.” The words are gentle, but Gerard has to fight from running right now. “Mikey would be here for you if you asked. I would.” 

He leans forward, presses his lips to Gerard’s – chaste and warm as a promise. 

“We will be,” he says and stands up, steps away. “If you want us.”

Gerard closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. He’s not been this scared since the earliest days with Mikey and he wonders if that’s a good omen, a portent. 

“Yes,” he says, and looks up, sees the hope and the question on Frank’s face. “Yes. To this week, to what you want to do with Mikey.” He breathes again, remembers what it feels like to risk everything, to be brave. “Yes to all of it.” 

If he doubted the truth of anything Frank said, those doubts are laid to rest by the warmth of Frank’s smile, and maybe Gerard hopes that Frank will come back, will kiss him again. But he just nods and leaves the room, and Gerard is left with the ruins of dinner and the mess of his own emotions, and a bubbling excitement he barely recognises anymore in his chest. 

He’s doing the dishes when Mikey comes to find him, and he’s mostly in a space beyond thoughts, just concentrating on the suds and making the plates clean, so he just grunts, lets Mikey get on with it. 

Mikey comes up behind him, hooks his chin over Gerard’s shoulders and links his arms around his waist. It’s familiar, _home_ , and Gerard feels the tension ebb out of his body. 

“You guys talked then?” Mikey asks as Gerard rinses the last plate clean of suds and puts it on the drainer. 

He nods and feels Mikey breathe into his neck, his lips slightly parted, and he can’t move now, not even if he wanted to. 

“You okay?” Mikey asks, and Gerard laughs, shaky and real, and Mikey tightens his embrace. “You will be, Gee. It’s all okay, you know. We’re not going to make you do anything you really don’t want to.”

“It’s new,” he says, because that’s something he _can_ say – just like he can’t tell Mikey he’s scared by the changes, that he feels lost in this new dynamic they have. 

But Mikey knows him; knows him better than he knows himself, and he sinks his face into Gerard’s neck. 

“New isn’t bad,” he says into Gerard’s skin. “And you’re amazing, Gee. You can do this. You can always do everything.”

Gerard reaches up, links his still wet hands with Mikey’s, so he’s almost hugging himself. 

“I wish I had your faith,” he says, feeling Mikey’s smile against the pulse of his throat. 

“You wouldn’t be you if you did.” He turns Gerard around, his hands deft and demanding, and he finally meets Gerard’s eyes. “It is okay, though? Isn’t it?” He bites his lip. “I mean, you always knew I sleep with other men. You told me I had to. I ask you before every time I do…”

His justification is so raw, so desperate that Gerard is torn with regret that he said or did anything that would make Mikey feel like he’s acted inappropriately. 

“I know.” He holds Mikey’s shoulders, feels the strength, the capability of his body. “But you had Frank, and I thought…”

“Sometimes he likes to see me being fucked.” Mikey’s voice is gentle, but there’s nothing apologetic about him. There doesn’t need to be, Gerard realizes. “He likes to loan me out, he likes it when I’m a whore for him.” Mikey licks his lips, his eyes glinting dark. “And then he’ll fuck me after when I’m sore and open.”

“I don’t think about that,” Gerard says, making a lie of dozens of evenings he’s spent alone in his room while Frank and Mikey attended fetish nights. He’s heard them stumbling up the stairs when they come home, found the clothes scattered on the floor between the front door and Frank’s bedroom, heard Mikey clawing at the wall while Frank fucks him like he’s got something to prove.

“Don’t you?” Mikey raises an eyebrow, catching the lie almost before it leaves Gerard’s lips. “You don’t like thinking about me being desperate for it?” He presses close to Gerard, let’s Gerard feel that he’s hard in his jeans. “Because I will be. By Thursday I’ll be hard all the time and I’ll be begging you to let me fuck someone, _anyone_.”

He speaks with such assurance that Gerard is stunned. 

“You’ve done this before?” he asks, wondering _when_ , _how_ , – where he was. “This breeding thing?”

“Not as a puppy,” Mikey says, his eyes wide and vulnerable. “Not without protection.” He looks at Gee. “Not with you involved.”

“So, why now?” The question’s been bothering Gerard, but Mikey just smiles. 

‘Because Frank wants to,” he says. “Because I want to. Because maybe you need to know how things are between us.”

“You know it won’t change how I feel.” Gerard tightens his grip, because it’s important Mikey understands this, but Mikey just smiles, like he knows this, knows all this and more.

“I know that,” he says, and runs his fingers down Gerard’s jaw in the softest caress. “Maybe I wanted Frank to see that too.”

It’s not what he expected and it takes Gerard aback. “Is that important?” he asks, and Mikey looks at him, nods. 

“If this is going to work?” he says. “Yes. Absolutely.”

And then he leans in, kisses Gerard, and for a minute Gerard can forget how scared he is. Even when he pulls away, his hands are still warm and tight around Gerard, and Gerard is able to keep hold of that calm, feels the fear evaporate, and find, in its wake, there’s only anticipation, excitement about the changes that are happening. 

—

“Promise me,” Mikey whispers later, when they’re alone in the dark. “Promise me you’ll hold me to it?”

“Hold you to what?” Gerard asks, too warm and sleepy to care much about anything apart from holding Mikey close. 

“You won’t let me come when I’m not meant to.” Mikey’s words are a blur of warm breath against Gerard’s skin and he shivers, tightening his arms reflexively. “I’m gonna beg you, Gee, but you can’t let me.” He shifts his face so he’s whispering into Gerard’s ear. “I need to do this.”

“Yeah.” Gerard strokes his fingers down Mikey’s back, trying to sooth the tension there. “Okay.”

“Promise.” Mikey lifts his head so Gerard can see his face in the dim light from the street. “You gotta promise.”

“Okay.” Gerard swallows, Mikey’s anxiety communicating itself to him, leaving his stomach twisting strangely. “Sure, Mikey. I promise.” 

It’s what Mikey needed to hear, and he lies back down, pressing into his space by Gerard’s side. 

“Thank you,” he says, his breath already slowing and evening out as he falls asleep.

“It’s fine,” Gerard says, more to himself than to Mikey, but even that reassurance isn’t enough to let him fall asleep himself. He lies awake, watching the shadows from headlights outside tracing patterns on the walls, and wondering how he can do this. Because Mikey wants it, he decides in the end. Just like everything else.

—  
“It’s Friday night,” Mikey says while they’re gaming the next evening, apropos of exactly nothing as far as Gerard can tell. 

“So?” he asks and uses the opportunity to shoot someone who’d been taking advantage of Mikey’s distraction to creep up on them. 

“So?” Mikey looks at him, raises an eyebrow. “It’s my last chance to come for a week, and I was wondering who was going to do it.” 

Frank meets Gerard’s eyes over Mikey’s head, his expression shifting into something dark and gleeful. 

“Who says you get to come today?” he asks, elbowing Mikey in the side. “Who says the week hasn’t started already?”

Mikey looks distinctly unimpressed. “Me,” he says. “The only question is who’s going to be with me when it happens.” He shifts his attention back to the game. “I’m perfectly capable of getting myself off if neither of you can be bothered.” 

“Really?” Frank sounds intrigued, like he wonders what he can get Mikey to do if he just _pushes_. “So, what’s it worth, Mikey? What’s it worth if we let you come tonight?”

Mikey shrugs. “You’re the one with the game plan, Frankie. You tell me.”

He keeps playing, like he’s not bothered by this, but Gerard can feel the tension in the line of his arm, his side, and sees Frank’s face, knows he’s noticed too. If nothing else, he’s throwing bombs with a casual disregard for aiming now, despite his attention seeming to be fixed on the screen. 

“No furniture for the next week,” Frank says, like it’s a dare, and Mikey pauses the game and looks at him at last.

“At home.” He turns around to look at Gerard. “I’ve made that mistake before and I’m not going to spend the week standing or kneeling at my desk.”

“Deal.” Frank sounds far too smug, but Mikey doesn’t seem to care. He pulls a cushion out from behind him and drops it onto the floor, kicking it until it’s on the floor between Gerard and Frank before sinking down onto it with boneless grace. 

“So who’s gonna get me off then?” he asks as he wriggles his shoulders so they’re both propping him up. 

Frank sniggers. “Oh, no, Mikes.” He tangles his fingers in Mikey’s hair, pulls his head back so he can see his face. “You’re going to get yourself off, just like you said you would.” He tugs Mikey’s hair one last time, then lets it go. 

“What’s the drawback?” There’s a note of suspicion to Mikey’s tone, and Gerard can see Frank’s face, can see that the suspicion is warranted. 

“You do it here,” Frank tells him. “In front of us. You’re gonna do exactly what we tell you to and you don’t come until we say you can.” 

Mikey looks at him, rolls his head so he can look at Gerard, shrugs. 

“‘Kay,” he says. “Wanna finish this game first?” 

“Up to you.” Gerard can hear the smile in Frank’s voice. “You’re the one working to a deadline. It’s…” He pulls out his phone, checks the time, “only 10.20 now. I’m sure you’ll manage to perform well enough that we’ll let you come before midnight. Take your time.” 

“Fine.” Mikey huffs like the sulky teenager Gerard remembers from years ago and flicks off the Xbox. “What do you want me to do?”

Frank sucks the air in over his teeth and shakes his head sadly. “Does that sound motivated to you, Gee?” he asks, not taking his eyes off Mikey. “Cuz I’m not sure it sounds motivated to me.”

Mikey rolls his shoulders, and Gerard can tell he’s amused behind the passive expression on his face.

“Please, sir.” His voice is totally impassive even as he bends over, presses his cheek to Frank’s foot. “Please tell me what to do. Please.” 

It’s so sarcastic, so _Mikey_ , that Gerard can’t stop his laugh in time, and Frank digs a boney elbow into his side so hard that Gerard ends up wriggling behind Frank so he can pin his arms and keep himself safe. 

It’s more of a wrestling match than he intended it to be, and by the time he’s done, Mikey is looking up at them, his eyes dark.

“Please,” he says again, but there’s a thready note of honesty to his voice now. “Tell me what to do.” 

Gerard feels Frank shift in the cradle of his body, feels him press back into the hold Gerard has on him. 

“Strip,” Frank says, and he’s pressed close enough now that Gerard can feel the word vibrate in his own chest. 

Mikey nods, fixes his eyes on them – his gaze hungry – and reaches down to tug his t-shirt off. He’s as beautiful as he always is, all sleek lines and sharp angles that make Gerard’s hands itch to touch, except that this time his hands are still on Frank’s arms, and he can feel how Frank is responding to Mikey as well. 

“And your pants.” Frank lets his head fall back, presses the side of his face into Gerard’s neck, and Gerard wants to say this isn’t affecting him, watching Mikey strip as he holds Frank, but he can’t, can’t lie. 

Mikey stands there when he’s done, naked and alone in the middle of the room. He’s half hard, has his arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to stop himself from reaching out, and he’s so vulnerable, so open, that Gerard has to take a breath, remind himself that Mikey _wants_ this, in order to stop himself calling Mikey over to join them. 

“Kneel down,” he says instead, and feels Frank stir, interested that he’s joining in. “And crawl here.” 

Mikey does and he’s more than half hard by the time he gets to them. 

“Hold your hand out.” Gerard’s voice is rough with nerves and he has to take a moment, to close his eyes, centre himself, before he says: “Get his hand wet, Frankie.” 

He thinks that maybe he’s taken this too far, that Frank will fight this, but instead Frank sighs and for the barest second he presses his lips to the pounding pulse in Gerard’s throat. Then he leans forward, moving carefully enough that he doesn’t break out of Gerard’s hold, and starts to lick Mikey’s upturned palm. 

It’s close, intimate. Gerard can see the sheen of saliva, can see how Mikey’s pupils widen with each stroke of Frank’s tongue. 

“Enough,” he says at last when Mikey’s breath is rough and his cock is twitching. “Mikes, stroke yourself. Take it slow. I want to see you enjoy it.” 

He wonders if Mikey will move back, away, but he doesn’t, and Gerard has to move, to shift his grip on Frank so he can watch. Frank doesn’t try to escape though; he moulds his body to Gerard’s, stays with him, and Gerard lets go of his grip on Frank’s arms in favour of wrapping him in a loose embrace. 

Mikey watches all of this, waits until they settle, before he trails his hand down his body and wraps it around his cock. He strokes it lightly, just once, just spreading the slickness from his hand over the length of himself, then stops, licks his lips. 

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Gee? Frankie?” 

“Yes.” They both say the word together, and Gerard catches the quickest flash of triumph on Mikey’s face before he bites his lip, starts stroking himself with two fingers, a touch so light it must almost be maddening. 

He gives himself over to it, lets his eyes fall closed, throws his head back and runs his free hand over his chest. He looks absorbed by his pleasure, abandoned to it, but Gerard’s watched him get off dozens of times before – hundreds – and knows a performance when he sees it. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to see it; he loves watching Mikey, loves knowing that he’s performing for his eyes, his pleasure. But it’s not what Mikey needs tonight. Tonight he needs to be beyond the thoughts that are running through his mind right now.

“Harder,” he tells Mikey. “And faster.”

Mikey widens his eyes but complies, and Gerard and Frank watch as a faint flush spreads up his chest, as his breathing starts to become ragged. 

“Stop,” Frank tells him when Mikey gasps, and even though his body is pliant in Gerard’s arms, his tone doesn’t brook disobedience. Mikey lets go of his cock, holds his hand up in an exaggerated act of compliance. “Give me your hand again.”

Frank spits on it this time, lets his lip curl into a sneer. “Go on,” he says. “Jack off again.” He catches Mikey’s wrist just as it starts to move. “Just the head this time, though.”

Mikey’s breath catches, but he nods, sinks his teeth into his lower lip as he starts to stroke. It’s an evil move from Frank – Gerard knows how sensitive Mikey is – and it doesn’t take long before Mikey is making tiny noises in the back of his throat, before the muscles in his thighs are tensing. 

“Stop,” Gerard says, and Mikey does, even though he moans as he moves his hand away. “Hold out your fingers.”

Mikey has to move forward a little until his body is scant inches away from Frank’s so he can push two of his fingers into Gerard’s mouth, but he does it, uncomplaining, and his cock jumps as Gerard starts to suck his fingers, leaking pre-come down the shaft as it does. 

“God.” The word is indistinct and Gerard grasps Mikey’s wrist, pulls his hand back so he can talk. “You taste so good, Mikes.”

He starts sucking again and feels more than hears Frank groan. 

“Gee.” Mikey’s voice is rough, and he moves his hand until his fingers are pressing on Gerard’s tongue. “What do you want now?” He pulls his fingers free and Gerard takes a breath. 

“Finger yourself,” he says, and Frank groans again, louder this time, and grinds back into Gerard, into where Gerard is hard against him. 

Gerard can’t see Mikey’s hand as he reaches back to sink his fingers into himself, but he can see the effect it’s having; can see the pink of Mikey’s cheeks, how swollen his lips are as he runs his tongue over them with a sigh. He can see how Mikey’s cock is jumping, the head flushed red, wet with pre-come. Can see how Mikey is straining as he tries to sink his fingers further in, tries to stroke his prostate. 

“Jesus.” Frank’s voice is low, reverent, and he’s palming his cock through his jeans, drawing Mikey’s eyes even as he’s starting to come apart. 

“You want to suck him?” Mikey’s eyes fly to Gerard’s face and he sees the hunger there, remembers how Frank made Mikey trade earlier for the promise of having his hunger satiated. “What’s it worth?”

He feels Frank shudder in his arms, and he tightens his hold with one arm as he reaches up to run the tips of his fingers across Frank’s face in a featherlight touch from his temple to his bottom lip. 

“What do you think, Frankie?” he asks, trailing his fingers back and forth across the dry, bitten skin of his lip. “What do you want for it?” 

Frank exhales with a shudder, the breath gusting over Gerard’s fingers. 

“Suck me,” he says, “and you eat out of a bowl all week.”

Mikey’s eyes widen, and Gerard gives in to temptation, buries his face in Frank’s tangled hair for a second and breathes in. 

“What will it be?” he asks when he can bear to pull away. “You wanna suck him, Mikes?”

He pulls Frank’s arms apart, leaves his body stretched under Mikey’s gaze, and he sees the thoughts chasing across Mikey’s face, how much he wants this. 

“It’ll be okay,” he says, and Mikey looks up at his face. “I’ll look after you.” 

It’s the right thing to say; Mikey’s eyes flutter closed, but he nods. 

“You gonna pull him out for me to suck?” His voice is shaking as he asks, and Gerard feels Frank tense up in his arms. 

He dips his head again, tries to hide the way his face is flaming.

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice is rough, commanding, but his fingers are tracing a pattern on Gerard’s knee. “Yeah, Mikes. He is.”

He tightens his fingers on Gerard’s leg, squeezes, and Gerard lets go of his arms and reaches around him to undo his belt with shaking hands. 

Frank is very still on him, like he thinks any sudden movements will startle Gerard, make him pull away, but when Gerard reaches into his jeans, he’s achingly hard and he hisses at Gerard’s touch. 

“C’mon, Mikey,” he says, his voice verging on desperate. “Suck me.” Then, when Gerard starts to loosen his hold, Frank grips his wrist and pins his hand in place. “Please.” His voice breaks on the word and Gerard can’t say no, doesn’t want to, and Frank groans as he tightens his fingers again, pushing back into his body. 

Mikey waits though, and Gerard realizes with a thrill he’s still waiting to be told what to do. 

“Lick him,” he says, and Mikey’s mouth twists into the smallest smile before he dips his head and licks over Gerard’s fingers, up Frank’s cock. 

He knows what Frank likes, and even with just his tongue, he’s making it good. Gerard can feel how Frank’s cock thickens and jumps, how Frank loves it when Mikey licks under the head of his cock, teases him with tiny kitten licks and long messy strokes.

“Suck the head,” Gerard says and Frank moans as Mikey fastens his lips around the top of his cock and starts to suck. 

It makes Gerard feel brave, reckless, and he starts to move his hand, uses the mess of spit and pre-come leaking from Mikey’s lips to ease his strokes. 

It doesn’t take long before Frank is shaking, moaning and warm in Gerard arms, thrusting up as far as he can into Mikey’s mouth and reaching out so he’s holding Mikey’s hair as well as Gerard’s wrist, urging them both on. 

It makes Mikey smile and pull off him with a pop. 

“He’s gonna come,” he tells Gerard. “You want me to finish him with my mouth?” 

“Yeah.” Gerard swallows, his mouth dry. “C’mon, Mikey. Do it.”

Mikey sinks his head back down and maybe this is when Gerard should move his hand, but he doesn’t, and he feels Frank come – feels it in the tensing of his body, in the pulsing of his cock. 

Mikey sucks him through it, only pulling away when Frank starts squirming against Gerard, making a show of swallowing and licking his lips. 

“What now?” he asks, his voice rough. Frank shifts against Gerard, presses against his erection and making him groan. 

“Jack off,” Frank says, “slowly.” He moves again, slow and deliberate against Gerard. “The speed you’d go if you were jacking Gee.” 

Mikey runs his tongue over his bottom lip and starts moving his hand on his cock torturously slowly. 

“Like when he wants to be teased?” he asks. “Or like when he needs me to get him off fast?”

“What do you think?” Gerard can hear the amusement in Frank’s voice, but he can’t respond, can’t think of words right now because Frank is grinding back against him in time with Mikey’s strokes. 

Mikey meets his eyes, and Gerard can see the smile in them. “He likes being teased,” he says, slowing the pace of his hand even further. Frank laughs, soft and warm, and it takes everything Gerard has not to grab hold of him and rut against him until he comes. 

“What else does he like?” Frank asks. Mikey bites his lip, considering. 

“Kissing,” he says at last. “Just lying in bed and kissing me. He likes drawing things out; fucking me as slowly as he can.” He reaches up and touches his own lip, trails his fingers down his body in a line that Frank and Gerard both track with their eyes. “He doesn’t top like you, Frankie – he wants pleasure, not obedience.” 

“Yeah?” Frank shifts against Gerard, lets his head fall back so his lips brush the side of Gerard’s face as he talks. “You want me to be gentle with you, Gee? You want to fall apart for me?” 

He grinds against Gerard again as he talks and robs the words from his mouth, but Mikey laughs. 

“Oh, no.” He speeds his hand up on his cock, smiles as Frank matches the pace of his strokes. “You don’t get it, Frankie.” He leans forward, braces his hand on Gerard’s shoulder, and Gerard can see how close he is in the flush of his cheeks, the sheen of sweat on his chest. “He’s gonna be gentle to you. You’re gonna fall apart for him.” 

And Gerard hears Frank gasp, feels him shiver, knows how plaint and wanting he’ll be when Gerard finally does this with him. He buries his face in Frank’s hair and gasps his orgasm out to the scent of Frank’s skin, the sound of Mikey coming over Frank. 

—

It’s second nature for Gerard to fuck Mikey on Saturday mornings. To start the weekend with the sort of lazy, sleepy sex that is more about the process than the orgasm; that’s everything to do with holding Mikey, exploring him, reminding both of them what they are for each other.

It’s the one thing that Gerard tends not to negotiate on, and no matter how late the night, or what they are all doing, Mikey _always_ crawls in and sleeps next to him so they can wake up together. 

So waking up to an empty bed and cold sheets next to him is disconcerting – disappointing – and it takes Gerard a few confusing minutes before he remembers. 

He lies there for a few minutes, considers just jerking off and getting it over with – but it’s _Saturday_ and he wants Mikey, dammit. He levers himself out of bed, dredges through his dirty laundry for a t-shirt and shorts that are suitable to be seen, and pads to the door of Frank’s room. 

He stops there, not sure what he should do next. They don’t _do_ this – don’t go into each other’s spaces, not for Mikey, not for any reason, and even though things are changing, they haven’t changed yet. 

In the end, the problem is taken out of his hands. The door swings open and Frank’s _there_ , bare-chested, with yoga pants riding dangerously low on his hips. 

“Heard you getting up.” The words are almost lost in a yawn, and Frank turns away, starts shuffling back to bed. “C’min.”

Gerard follows him, uncomfortable and hesitant. Frank’s room is still unfamiliar space, and he’d leave except he sees Mikey, still asleep, in the crate at the bottom of Frank’s bed. 

“Chasin’ rabbits in his dreams,” Frank says, swinging himself back into bed and lying back to look at Gerard. “You want him?”

He looks curious rather than judgemental, but Gerard still feels himself coloring. 

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “It’s…”

“Saturday,” Frank finishes for him and nods. “I know.” He quirks his head to the side, looks Gerard up and down. “So, what’re you gonna do to him?” 

“Going to fuck him,” Gerard says and watches as Frank swallows, as his eyes blink closed for just a fraction of a second too long. “Why? You want details?” 

“Yeah.” Frank skims his hands down his body until they disappear under the covers. “You want to tell me?” 

Gerard’s eyes flick to where Mikey’s curled up, still and peaceful. 

“I normally wake up before him,” he says. “He likes it when I fuck him awake.”

“Yeah?” Frank bites his lip, and if Gerard looked he could see the movement of his hand under the covers. He carefully doesn’t. “You finger him first?”

“If he needs it.” Gerard shrugs. “But you normally spend Fridays with him. He’s usually still open when I wake up.” He swallows, meets Frank’s eyes. “And wet.”

“Jesus.” The word is almost a hiss and the sound of Frank’s hand speed up. “You fuck him while he’s wet from me?” 

Gerard nods. “He feels so good like that. So filthy and open.” He blinks, thinks about how beautiful Mikey looks like that. “He likes that, having both of us in him. Like he’s a whore, a slut.” 

Frank groans. “And you?” he asks, breathless. “You like fucking him like that?”

And Gerard has to close his eyes for a second, unsure how to find words for this. Because… _no_ – not to start with. When Mikey had first crawled into his bed, covered in bruises and dripping come, all Gerard had been able to do was bite his tongue, ease the hurts he saw, try to replace every thought of anyone else in Mikey’s mind with him – with how much he was loved. 

But somehow over all this time, that’s changed. He thinks he understands now, what Frank and Mikey mean to each other, how they show that. And now… now he feels differently when he pushes into Mikey, feels him open and yielding from what Frank’s already done to him. 

“Sometimes he tells me what you did to him,” Gerard says. “And I fuck him while he tells me.” 

“Gee.” His eyes are wide and dark, his cheeks flushed, and Gerard can see the indentations where he’s biting his lip. He can’t pretend that he doesn’t know what Frank is doing, can’t pretend he doesn't want to be part of it any more. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed and leans in until his lips are almost brushing Frank’s ear. 

“When I fuck him now,” he says, “I’m gonna take it so slowly. I’m going to spread him out on the bed and tell him to stay, and you know what? He will.” Gerard exhales, imagines it. “He’ll be so _good_ for me. He’s always so good for me.” He feels more than sees Frank’s nod, feels it in the skin it pushes into his. “And I’m going to touch him, light as I can, until he’s hard, until he’s begging for more. And I’ll finger him.” He breathes in the scent of Frank’s desperation. “Use so much lube on him he’ll be dripping with it, that it’ll feel like you fucked him first. And I’ll do it for _hours_ , until he’s crying, until you can hear him.”

“And then?” Frank’s voice is all urgency, and Gerard knows he’s getting close. 

“Then I’ll fuck him,” Gerard says. “I’ll hold him down and fuck him as slowly as I want, and he won’t be able to do anything about it. And, Frankie,” he leans closer so he’s whispering straight into Frank’s ear. “He’s going to feel fucking _perfect_ around me.” He takes a second to picture it, shivers, turned on now at the thought of what he’s going to do; at the reality of what he’s doing right now. “And when he comes back in to you? He’ll be so open, so wet. And you’ll slide your fingers into him and know it was me who did that.” He breathes in the scent of Frank’s skin, his desperation. “And he’ll still be hard. He’ll beg you to fuck him. You gonna do that for me, Frankie?”

“Yes.” The word is the barest gasp, and Frank is coming, his face scrunched up with pleasure as he twists under the covers. 

It pushes them together, and Gerard doesn’t pull away afterwards. Instead he drops his head when Frank slumps back against the bed, rests his face against Frank’s neck. Feels the frantic thrum of his heartbeat start to slow, the sweat damp on his skin. 

He’s only aware he’s stayed there for a fraction too long when Frank reaches up and tangles his fingers in his hair. 

“Gee,” his voice is careful and Gerard tries to pull away, but Frank only lets him pull back enough that he can see his face. 

“We should talk about stuff,” he says and Gerard can’t help the way his stomach twists at the words, because no good conversation starts like that. But Frank runs his thumb down Gerard’s cheekbone and Gerard has to at least try to trust this process. “We could have lunch on Monday?”

Gerard imagines them, side by side on the park bench that’s becoming theirs, the food he’d bring for Frank to eat, the awkward silence that would hang between them…

“I can’t,” he says, then regrets it when Frank’s face falls, his emotions suddenly and ridiculously readable on his face. “I’m in New York. I have meetings all morning.” Frank nods, but he’s guarded now; Gerard feels the hold on his hair loosening. “But later in the week?” He’ll find the words he needs, he thinks. He has to if it makes Frank’s face light up like that. 

“‘Kay,” Frank says, and his eyes dart down to Mikey’s crate. “You wanna take Mikey now?”

The question is loaded and Gerard knows, before he looks, that Mikey is awake now; that Mikey saw what he just did with Frank. He can’t help it, he closes his eyes, scared of what he’ll see on Mikey’s face, feels his skin starting to heat. 

Frank stills under him, makes an indecipherable noise, and Gerard hears the soft sound of movement and then a hand on his shoulder; Mikey’s, he realizes. 

The touch is gentle and Gerard lets himself push into it, to feel Mikey’s hands on him, Frank’s. 

“Take him back to your room,” Frank says, and Gerard doesn’t know who he’s talking to, but the words are warm and he nods his head. 

And for a second, just before he gets off the bed, he feels the press of Frank’s lips against his wrist – gentle, warm, full of promise. 

—

He’s expecting it, maybe. Certainly can’t settle to anything that requires concentration that night. But it’s still almost shocking when Mikey walks into his room, eyes wild, bruises scattered over his skin like fallen petals. 

Gerard knows without looking how swollen he will be, how wet, and his heart twists. He opens his arms to Mikey, and Mikey staggers to him, presses into the embrace like he’s been starved for it. 

“Gee,” he says, his voice cracking, pressing his chest against Gerard even while he keeps his hips a careful space away. “Please. I gotta come. Please, let me come.”

“Mikey.” He holds him close, kisses his temple. “Mikes, you _can’t_ ”

“But, Gee…” Mikey sounds desperate, is fisting his hands in the thin fabric of Gerard’s shirt. “I have to.” 

“Shhhhhhh.” Gerard pins him with his body, doesn’t let Mikey move away or thrust against him. “You don’t want to, Mikes. Not really. This will pass.”

Mikey makes a broken noise and presses closer. “It won’t,” he says. “Not this time.”

“It will.” Gerard keeps his voice as calm as he can, keeps his hold on Mikey until Mikey stops shaking, until he presses his face into Gerard’s shoulder like he’s exhausted himself. 

“Want to tell me what happened?” Gerard asks when he thinks Mikey can talk again, and he feels Mikey bite him lightly on the top of his shoulder. 

“Spent the day as a puppy,” Mikey says, and Gerard nods, because he’s heard enough to put that together for himself. “Frank wanted to do obedience training.”

“You’re good at that,” Gerard says, and presses a kiss to Mikey’s hair. “I’ve seen you, remember?”

“Not with the tail,” Mikey says in a small voice, and Gerard freezes. 

“Tail?” he asks, trying to keep everything but curiosity out of his voice. But Mikey knows him too well and stirs uncomfortably in his arms. 

“It’s a plug,” he says, and Gerard can hear the shame in his voice. “A plug with a tail on it. He doesn’t want you to see that. He thinks it’ll freak you out. But it presses in me, whenever I move and…”

“Shhhhh.” Gerard soothes his hands over Mikey’s back, tries not to imagine how he looks on all fours with a tail, tries not to wonder if he wags it, like a good puppy would. 

“I couldn’t concentrate,” Mikey says, hushed like this is some sort of twisted confessional. “I was so hard.”

“So, what happened?” Gerard fights to keep his voice neutral, but he’s hard, knows that Mikey _knows_ he’s hard. 

“We played for a bit.” Mikey presses his lips to Gerard’s throat and breathes for a moment. “Just fetch and obedience tricks, then he wanted to read, and Gee… I needed to come so much.”

“Did you jerk off?” He tries not to picture it; Mikey trying to hide from Frank, jerking off like he did when he was a teenager, when he was scared someone would hear him.

“No.” Mikey’s cheeks burn. “Puppies can’t jerk off.” 

Gerard thinks about it; how hard Mikey must have been, how overstimulated. “What did you do?” he asks, because Mikey must have done _something_. 

“There’s a toy he gives me.” The words sound like they’re being torn from Mikey, like he’d choose not to say them if he could. “I keep it in my crate. I thought he wouldn’t notice if I…”

Gerard’s had friends with dogs before. “You humped the toy?”

Mikey nods his head, shame oozing from every pore. 

“And Frank found you?”

“Yes.” Mikey’s voice is tiny. 

“And what did he do?”

“He laughed when he found me.” Mikey gulps in a breath. “Pulled me off the toy. Spanked me.”

That much is evident from the welts and marks on Mikey, from the bruises that are blossoming and starting to form on the backs of Mikey’s thighs. 

He traces his fingers over Mikey’s skin, tries to resist the urge to _press_. “You’re still hard though.”

“He put me in the cuffs,” Mikey says, and presses into Gerard again, pliant and almost feverishly hot. “The leather ones. Then he fucked me. Gee… he pressed on my prostate over and over and he wouldn’t let up, wouldn’t let me come.”

“How did he stop you?” Gerard knows how sensitive Mikey is, knows how he can come without being touched if you use the right angle, the right pressure. 

“He flicked my balls when I got too close,” Mikey says, and Gerard shuts his eyes against the image, not sure if he wants to wince or moan. 

“Jesus,” he says, feeling his own erection throb. “Mikey… I…” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the skin on Mikey’s shoulder. “Please.”

He can’t form the words he needs to say, but Mikey hears them regardless and he sobs, rolling onto his back and spreading his legs as Gerard pulls his clothes off. When Gerard climbs on top of him and pushes inside, Mikey wraps his arms around him and holds on tight, like he never wants to let go. 

Gerard fucks him as gently as he can, but his self-control is frayed and he’s rougher than he means to be, faster, and Mikey is soon panting under him, the cadences of his breathing showing how close he is to coming. 

“Please,” he’s saying over and over again. “ _Please_.” 

“Mikey.” Gerard kisses him, breathy, desperate, clumsy with how much he wants this. “You got to be good. You can’t come.”

Mikey makes a tiny, broken noise. He’s shaking, Gerard realizes, and when he leans close to kiss his cheeks they’re salty with tears. 

He knows he should stop, should back off, should give Mikey space… but Mikey is so pliant under him, so hot and yielding, that Gerard _can’t_. 

“I’ll be quick,” he says. “Please, Mikey.”

It must be painful, Gerard knows that. Mikey’s been so close for so long, and he must want to stop… but instead of trying to get away Mikey holds onto him, presses his nails into Gerard’s shoulders, and Gerard can almost taste how close he is, how much he wants to come right now.

It’s too much, and Gerard doesn’t try to hold back. He comes, deep and hard, inside Mikey, and only then does Mikey shove weakly at him. Gerard pulls out, as carefully as he can, but it’s too little, too late, and as he pulls back, Mikey’s cock twitches, and he fists his hands in the sheets to stop himself reaching for it.

“Hey.” Gerard opens his arms. “C’mere.” 

Mikey presses into him, and as Gerard wraps his arms around him, he starts crying, alarming sobs that wrack his body, that feel cathartic even to Gerard. 

“You’re so good,” Gerard tells him. “So perfect. Mikey. I love you so much. _We_ love you so much.”

It takes a while for Mikey to calm down enough to talk, and when he does he’s wrapped around Gerard like a vine. 

“It’s so hard though,” he says. “I want to come, Gee. _Please_.”

“You don’t,” he says, stroking his hands over the tense muscles of Mikey’s back. “And it’s gonna be worth it, Mikey, I promise.”

Mikey presses his face into Gerard’s neck, shakes his head, and Gerard sighs. 

“Think of how it’s going to feel,” he says, “on Friday when you see the other pup. You’ll be amazing, Mikey.”

He’s not sure he wants to think about this, is still conflicted, but Mikey needs something to hold onto and Gerard can give him this. 

“You’re gonna be there?” Mikey asks, and Gerard tightens his arms around him. 

“Of course,” he says. “If you want me.”

“Yes.” Mikey’s voice is small, but he sounds certain. “Please.” He pulls away from Gerard a bit, enough that he can look at him, can thread his fingers into Gerard’s hair. “No one’s ever fucked me before, not bare. Not apart from you and Frank.”

He sounds uncertain, and Gerard’s heart twists. 

“No one has to now,” he says. “Not if you don’t want it.”

“But I do.” The words are tiny – quiet enough that Gerard has to strain to hear them, even though Mikey is pressed so close to him. 

“You’re going to be amazing when it happens,” Gerard says, swallows. “Mikes, you’re going to be such a needy little bitch, and Frankie and me… we’re going to love watching you.”

“You don’t think it’s disgusting?” Mikey asks, like it’s the thing that’s been eating away at him since this was suggested, and Gerard shakes his head. 

“I don’t think anything you do is disgusting,” he says, and he means it. 

“And you’ll be there afterwards?”

“Always.” He tips Mikey’s face up, kisses him. “We can do whatever you want, all weekend after.”

“Anything?” The hope in Mikey’s voice is heartbreaking and Gerard nods. “Even if it’s the three of us?”

Gerard knows he should say something about how it may not work out, about how he shouldn't rush things with this, but Mikey looks so vulnerable that he can’t.

“Anything,” he says again. “Anything you want.”

Mikey kisses him then, clumsy and heartfelt. It’s like their first kiss all over again, and Gerard can’t pull away – won’t. 

“Dress me up?” Mikey asks at last. “Make me pretty for when I go back to him?” 

It’s not something Mikey’s ever asked for before. Even though they do this together, they’ve never shared it with anyone else before, certainly not with Frank – and Gerard swallows even as he nods. Maybe now’s the time, he thinks, now that things are changing and Mikey is learning to trust his own strength. Now that the boundaries between himself and Frank a blurring and moving and shifting. Maybe now is the moment to stop hiding. 

It’s a physical wrench, pulling himself away from Mikey, but he has to if Mikey wants this. 

Everything he needs is close to hand – is ready for whenever he might need it – and Mikey waits, patient and wide eyed, as Gerard fetches it. 

It makes Gerard feel like something from a romance novel, from some story of chivalry. 

He kneels at Mikey’s feet as he pulls the confection of lace and silk that he’s chosen up Mikey’s legs. And Mikey is beautiful. He’s still hard and his erection strains against the fabric as Gerard settles the panties in place, but he doesn’t move, as though his former desperation and frustration have been replaced by something serene, something beautiful. 

Gerard’s hands are shaking as he starts to pull the stockings onto Mikey, and he has to stop, to bury his face in the soft warmth of Mikey’s thigh, to press a string of kisses to the tendons he can feel tensing under his skin. 

He’s brave again when he stands up, when he pulls the slip over Mikey’s head. 

“Let me do your hair?” he asks, smiling when Mikey nods. 

Mikey seems completely calm now, letting Gerard move him as he wants to fix his hair, to darken his eyes with liner and to smudge the lines with tip of his finger. In fact, Gerard only pauses when he picks up the lipstick, and he has to kiss Mikey, _has_ to. 

“I love you,” he says, and when Mikey opens his mouth to reply he drags the lipstick across his lower lip, and Mikey’s eyes fall shut and he shivers. 

“How do I look?” Mikey asks when he’s done, and Gerard can hear the thread of nervousness in his tone, because this is something they keep between themselves, sure that Frank won’t get it. 

“You look beautiful,” he says simply. “He’ll love you.”

Mikey nods and stands up. Gerard stays where he is on the floor, rests his chin on his knee and watches how Mikey summons up his courage, how he straightens his spine and pushes his chin up.

Still, he listens as Mikey leaves. Hears him open the door to Frank’s room, hears him clear his throat.

But he can’t see – can't see the expression on Frank’s face, can’t see the look in his eyes as he says “ _Mikey_ ” like it’s a prayer. The door shuts behind Mikey with a snick, and Gerard swallows. 

He gets up from the floor and staggers to his desk, his legs partially asleep from sitting badly for so long. The sound of a throaty laugh drifts from the other room and he fumbles for his laptop, his headphones, not willing to eavesdrop on this any more. 

—

There is nothing Gerard likes about New York. 

Well, his colleagues are great and he loves talking to them, but the public transport, the crowds, the noise… he’s used to isolating himself in his work now and having to deal with this many people almost physically hurts. 

Still, the meeting goes well and Mikey’s told him about a new band so he has something to play through his headphones as he leaves the office. If he keeps his head down, he thinks, he can be at the station in twenty minutes, be home within the hour. 

He’ll get coffee at the station, he decides, and fixes his eyes on the sidewalk and starts to walk. 

He’s barely gotten twenty steps before someone stops him, though, and it’s a shock, another frustration in a day that’s already giving him a headache. 

It’s only when he looks up that he realizes it’s Frank, and he can’t help it – his face splits into a huge smile. 

“Hey,” he says, pulling his headphones off. “What’re you doing here?”

“Thought we could have lunch.” Frank looks like he’s having a debate with himself, then he holds out a travel mug to Gerard. “And I brought you coffee.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Gerard says and takes the mug. Frank must have brought it from home.It’s a mug of bitter-sweet perfection and he wraps his hands around it inhales. “I think I love you.” 

Frank laughs, sounding shocked. “Well,” he starts to say, and Gerard fake-glares at him. 

“Excuse me.” He puts as much haughtiness in his tone as he can manage. “You’re intruding on our moment.”

For a second Frank looks taken aback, and then he laughs, free and open enough that the people around them stop to look. 

“Shoulda known,” he says, and Gerard hides his smile in the cup. “Nobody can compete with coffee for your affections.”

“Maybe you just need to try harder,” Gerard says, arch, and hands the empty mug back to Frank. “What did you have planned for lunch?” 

Frank shrugs, and there’s the faintest tinge of pink to the top of his cheeks. 

“I thought we could go to Hammer Galleries,” he says, like he’s expecting Gerard to shout at him for something. “They have an exhibition of Leonid Afremov on. I thought you’d like to see it.” 

And the thing is, Gerard _does_ – it just hadn’t been worth the extra couple of hours it would have taken to see it. But with Frank here, suggesting they go, it’s irresistible.

“Yeah.” He grins, grabs Frank’s wrist. “You know the best way there? Or you want me to show you?”

He’s not sure if he’s expecting Frank to argue, but he doesn’t. 

“Lead on, McDuff,” he says, and Gerard smirks.

“You do know that isn’t really the quote, don’t you?”

They squabble all the way there, and Gerard only realizes he’s forgotten to drop Frank’s wrist when they get to the bag check and he has to pull free. Maybe Frank won’t have noticed, he thinks, but Frank’s waiting for him on the other side of the checking area, a small, sly smile twisting his lips and his arm held out. 

“You gonna make sure I don’t get lost again?” he asks, and when Gerard holds back, suddenly awkward, his smile softens. “I need you to show me what I should be looking at anyway.” 

It’s easy after that to link his fingers with Frank’s, because even if Frank’s bringing him here to see the exhibition, this is Gerard’s home turf, and there are things he wants Frank to see on the way there. 

He’s worried he’ll piss Frank off, but when he looks back, Frank’s watching him with warm, amused eyes. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Art school.” 

“Hey.” Frank doesn’t let go of his hand, but he swings around so he can punch Gerard’s shoulder. “Don’t be sorry.” He grins, wicked and dark. “I knew what I was getting into – Mikey warned me.” 

“Mikey knows you’re here?” 

Frank’s face twists into something complex that Gerard struggles to read. 

“Of course,” he says at last. “You think he wouldn’t?”

Gerard shrugs. He hadn’t stopped to wonder why Frank was waiting for him, hadn’t even considered that Mikey might be involved. 

“But that means…”

Frank shrugs. “It means he mentioned you’d talked about this,” he says, a touch too defensive to be realistic. “It’s not a thing. Stop stressing.” 

There are chapters of meaning on his face, but Gerard looks away, gives him the privacy he so clearly wants. 

“Mikey’s great,” he says instead, and Frank tightens his fingers around Gerard’s. 

“He is.” The smile is so clear in his voice that Gerard turns back to him. 

“I don’t want to hurt him.” It should go without saying, but things are changing and Gerard needs to cling on to what’s important. 

“I know.” Frank looks at him like he’s said something important. “I don’t either, you know.” 

“What if this doesn't work?” Gerard asks, his voice close to a whisper. 

Frank looks at him for a long moment, his expression gentle. 

“You think this isn’t gonna work out?” he asks, and Gerard swallows because there’s so much promise in Frank’s face, so much honesty and trust that he doesn’t know what to do. 

“We should go in if we’re going to,” he says instead, and Frank could call him out on this – should, maybe – but he nods and they walk into the exhibition together, his hand warm in Gerard’s, his presence an almost tangible weight that very nearly distracts Gerard from what he’s seeing. 

But very nearly isn’t enough, and Gerard has wanted to see Leonid Afremov’s _Autumn Rain_ forever. The sight of it pushes everything else out of his mind and he tightens his hold on Frank’s hand. 

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, Frank.” And he pulls Frank over to the picture, stands in front of it, his eyes wide, drinking in everything he can. 

But no matter how entranced he is, he’s aware of Frank next to him, the tiny, amused smile on his lips, the way he’s leaning into Gerard the longer they stand. 

At last he rests his chin on Gerard’s shoulder, whispers in his ear. “Tell me what I’m seeing,” he says, and that’s all the invitation Gerard’s been waiting for – years of art school and personal interest takes over and before he knows where he is, he’s told Frank nearly everything he knows. 

“I dunno,” he says eventually when his voice is slightly hoarse from talking. “That’s like the history, you know? And the technique.” He takes a step back, feels how Frank matches his step. “It’s how it makes you _feel_.”

“How does it make you feel?” Frank sounds honestly curious, and Gerard could kiss him. 

“Like I’m part of this,” he says, thinking back to the first time he saw this, to the realization that the artist was as human – as fallible as he was. “Like I can do it if I try. Like I could do something that would make people stop and stare like this.” He blushes, looks at his feet, aware how arrogant he sounds, aware he’s probably said too much. “Not that I’m saying I’m as good as this of course, but…” 

“You’ve never shown me your art,” Frank says, like it’s just some other part of the conversation, like the words don’t cut Gerard open. “Oh, I’ve seen your comics, just…”

“I’ll show you when we get home,” Gerard says, and doesn’t know why he’s not done this before, doesn’t know why – after all they’ve done, all the things they’ve shared – _this_ makes him feel so fucking vulnerable.

“I’d like that.” Frank sounds calm, but Gerard can feel the steady weight of his regard. “Things are changing, Gee. We need to work this out.”

“Yeah.” Gerard lets go of his hand, wraps his arm around him instead and indulges in the luxury of pulling him close. “You scared?”

“As fuck.” And Gerard can hear the smile in the words, the honesty. “You?”

Gerard nods, not able to say anything and Frank takes a step back and links their fingers together again.

“What I don’t get,” he says, conversationally, “is the perspective in this.”

It’s a cop out, and Gee knows it is, but Frank looks interested and he takes a breath and starts to talk. 

He has enough to say that they’re sat at a table with coffee before Gerard notices and he’s not sure how they’ve even got there. 

He can’t help the color that floods his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he says again. “I must be boring you.”

“No.” Frank shakes his head, looks amused and fond and other things that Gerard can’t name. “I don’t get to hear you talk enough.”

“What did you think?” Gerard asks, wanting to know, wanting not to talk about _them_. “Of the picture?”

“It’s interesting.” Frank puts another sachet of sugar in his coffee, stirs it with a thoughtful expression on his face. “I like art that tells a story, you know? And I’ve seen this picture – seen pictures of it anyway – but I’d never understood the story behind it before.”

Frank doesn’t have Gerard’s background with art – he’s a musician, a mechanic – but he’s smart and funny and he holds Gerard captive as he talks and for once – for the first time – the commute home doesn’t feel long enough. 

They’re still talking when they pile through the front door and find Mikey sitting on a beanbag on the floor, a book in his hand and his headphones around his neck. 

“Hey,” he says, and there’s an edge of careful concern to his tone that puzzles Gerard. “How did the date go?”

Gerard blinks at him, completely confused, and next to him Frank chuckles, wraps his arm around Gerard’s waist. 

“Don’t think he noticed we were on a date,” he says, and Gerard swings around, stares at him. 

“Seriously?” Mikey sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “But you’re never off on Mondays.” He stares at Gerard, raises an eyebrow. “How the fuck did you think he got the day off, Gee?”

Gerard boggles and Frank laughs again.

“Eh,” he says. “You know your brother. We’ll do better next time, won’t we, Gee?”

He stands on tiptoe and kisses the edge of Gerard’s jaw, pushes himself back, a bounce in his step and a look of determined cheer on his face as he walks away. 

It’s too quiet after he leaves, the only noise is Mikey levering himself up off the floor.

“Gonna go sort him out,” he says. He kisses Gerard gently on the lips. “I love you, Gee. Don’t fuck this up.”

He starts to walk off but Gerard catches his wrist. 

“What do I do?” he asks, helpless, and Mikey shrugs. 

“I’m not gonna tell you that,” he says, then pauses. “But he made the first move. You need to make the next one.” 

He kisses Gerard again and leaves, and for once Gerard doesn’t strain to hear what’s happening. He’s busy on his laptop. He has a date to plan. 

—

“I need your help,” he tells Mikey when he gets home from work the next day and pretends he doesn’t notice the small triumphant smile on Mikey’s face.

“Sure.” Mikey makes grabby hands for the coffee Gerard’s brewed him and takes a sip with a look of bliss on his face. “What do you need?”

Gerard can’t think how to explain; instead he shrugs and lets Mikey follow him to the storm of perfect chaos that used to be his room.

“Huh.” Mikey looks at the room, at the canvases all spread out. At the canvas propped, prominent, on the bed. “I thought you didn’t want to show this.”

“I don’t.” Gerard steps carefully into the room, reaches out, touches the edge of the frame. “It’s _ours_.” He looks at Mikey. “But I want to share it with Frank.”

Mikey hums. “What about the others?” he asks, gesturing to the piles of paintings that are propped against every conceivable surface, and Gerard shrugs.

“They’re not really good enough,” he says, feeling that familiar itching shame that comes whenever he thinks about sharing the art that’s actually important to him. “You know I mainly do graphic art these days.”

“And you think Frank’s gonna be judging you on that?” Mikey sounds so honestly curious that Gerard looks down at his feet, his cheeks coloring, because Frank might not be judging him – but he’ll be judging himself through Frank’s eyes, and he can’t bear the thought he will fall short of what he should be. 

Mikey gives him space, even though he comes into the room and starts rooting through the pile of canvases and pictures.

“What about this?” he asks, holding up a portrait of their Grandmother. “This is good. He’d like this.”

“It’s personal,” Gerard says, and is aware as he says it how hollow the words ring, because if Frank isn’t family by now, then there is no hope for them. “But…” He swallows. “Okay. If you think he’d appreciate it.”

“You know he would.” Mikey’s voice is unimpressed and Gerard shrugs, unable to agree out loud. “And these.” 

He points to a sheaf of pencil studies. They’re just Mikey, over and over, parts of him – a smile, the curve of his knee, the jut of his hip – the whole of him in rough lines in a multitude of poses, and anyone who looked at them could see every thought Gerard’s ever had about him.

He nods. 

“Anything else?” His voice shakes and Mikey smiles, secret to himself, and pretends not to notice. 

He picks out a few other canvases – a landscape, a couple of pictures of Mikey that are more abstract than revealing, a picture of the house he painted after he’d just moved in and still wasn’t sure what Mikey meant by moving in with him – and when he’s done he raises his eyebrow in question at Gerard. 

“You think I should?” Gerard asks, small, but Mikey just shrugs.

He’s picked up the sketchpad that Gerard’s left by the side of his bed – left it there because it’s the one he’s using at the moment rather than because he wants it included in the decision process. 

And Gerard forgets why this is is a bad idea. He’s so used to Mikey having free reign to every part of him, and it’s been so long since there was anything he even thought he should conceal that it’s only when Mikey makes a bitten off noise and holds the book out that Gerard remembers what’s in it. 

“No,” he says at once. “Mikey, no. Not that.”

He snatches the book out of Mikey’s hands; pretends not to see the look of fleeting hurt and triumph that passes across his face.

“It’s rough,” he says.

“The tattoos are wrong,” he says. 

Mikey just looks at him, his eyes wide and un-judging. 

“You caught his expression,” Mikey says, and Gerard can’t help himself – he looks at the picture, at the way Frank’s hair curls into his neck and down over the top of his shoulder. 

“It’s rough,” he says again, and Mikey nods.

“So, ask him to sit for you.”

The words fill Gerard with horror.

“I can’t do that,” he says and Mikey raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Why not?” There’s an edge of careful anger to the words that reminds Gerard that Mikey loves them both, and Gerard smiles, rueful. 

“It’s an intimate thing,” he says, and tries to ignore the face Mikey’s pulling at him. “Mikes, I haven’t painted anyone but you for _years_.” 

Mikey huffs out an unbelieving noise but doesn’t argue, even if there’s a fight to be had in his eyes. 

“What are you planning for the date?” he asks instead and Gerard shrugs.

“I was going to put the picture of you downstairs for when he got home and then bring him out.” His mouth twists thinking about it. “There’s a show on that I thought…”

“And you want to do that?” Mikey sounds sceptical, and Gerard doesn’t blame him. 

“Not really.” He looks at Mikey, shrugs. “But he probably didn’t want to go to an art gallery either.”

Mikey frowns at him, like he’s seeing Gerard for the first time and is concerned at what he sees.

“This isn't an exercise in being unhappy,” he says. “You don’t take it in turns to make sacrifices to please the other person. You do know that isn’t how dating works, don’t you, Gee?”

His voice is gentle, but Gerard feels something uncomfortable twist in his stomach. 

“It’s been years since I’ve _dated_ ,” he says to hide the fact that _yes_ , actually. Dating has always been an exchange for him. He put up with going to parties he didn’t want to go to; doing things he’d usually avoid, and in return he got someone who’d tolerate his weirdness. It’s how dating has worked with everyone ever apart from Mikey – and it’s debatable if what they did could ever be categorised as _dating_. 

“Jesus.” Mikey must see some of this on his face; he pulls him into a hug that barely lets Gerard breathe. “You can’t do that with Frankie. It’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to you.” He holds Gerard close, doesn’t let him escape this. “Understand?” 

It almost hurts to nod, but Gerard does. 

“Mikey.” His voice is raw, but Mikey doesn’t let go, holds him just as steady and firm. “What if I don’t know how?”

“Oh, Gee.” Mikey buries his face in Gerard’s hair. “You’re amazing. You can do this.” 

He has so much faith it burns, make Gerard believe that he needs to _try_ at the very least. 

“What do you suggest then?” he asks in a small voice, and Mikey tightens his arms even more. 

“You should show him your art,” Mikey says. “Ask him to pose for you.”

It’s everything that Gerard yearns for and dreads hearing all at once and he pulls away, confused and hurting. 

“Mikey,” he says. “What if he doesn’t want to?”

It makes Mikey’s face soften, makes him reach out and touch Gerard again. 

“Gee,” he says. “You need to listen to me on this.” He takes hold of Gerard’s arms, just above his elbows, meets his eyes steady and unafraid. “I remember the first time you painted me.” His eyes are dark, focused on the memory. “It’s not something I’ll ever forget.”

“And you think Frank would like that?” 

Mikey leans in, kisses the corner of his mouth. “Do I think Frank will like you looking at him for hours? _Seeing_ him?” He smiles. “Yes, I do.”

“Okay” Gerard wants to run from the word, from this feeling. It feels bigger, more uncomfortable than going out to some show somewhere, than putting his feelings for Frank on the line. But he sees how much Mikey needs this. Remembers how vulnerable Frank’s face was when he sang the song in the club that night, and it gives him courage. “I can do that.”

“That’s my boy.” Mikey’s smile is soft, warm; full of pride, and something deeper – something bigger. “Want me to help you set things up?”

By the time Frank gets home, Gerard has changed his mind three times and Mikey’s patience is starting to fray. 

He bounds out of the living room as soon as he hears the front door open, and Gerard hears the gentle murmur of voices from the hall. 

It’s not too late, he thinks. He can pack up the rest of the paintings while Mikey’s saying hello, stick his art supplies behind a cushion, and take Frank to a show like none of this was even an option. 

“Hey.” Frank’s voice startles him and he jumps, finds Frank being him already with the smallest smile on his face. “Mikey says you’ve got something pl…” 

He looks around at the room, at the art everywhere, and his face lights up. 

“Yeah.” Gerard scuffs his foot across the rug. “I thought… Mikey thought…” He shrugs. “We can just go out if you think this is stupid.”

“No fucking way.” Frank squeezes his arm, just once, and darts off, starts looking at the pictures. “You know how long I’ve waited to see this?”

Gerard can barely stand to watch him – his expression is so open that Gerard could read every thought, every emotion that crosses his face. 

“Elena.” His voice is hushed and he stands in front of the picture, his fingers millimetres from the canvas. “Mikey’s told me so much about her – he’s showed me photos.” He takes a step back, and Gerard is scared to look – can’t look away. “This makes me feel like I know her.” He gestures to the line of her forehead. “I can see you and Mikey in her, I can see where you both came from.” He looks around at Gerard. “She must have been so proud of you.”

“She was.” Gerard swallows. “I’d never have got anywhere without her. I’d be in some dead-end job, wishing my life away.” He looks at the picture, at the smile he misses so much, that he thinks he's managed to capture. “I owe her so much.”

Frank slides his arm around Gerard. 

“I wish I’d met her,” he says and presses his face into Gerard’s neck. “You wanna show me some more?” 

Gerard nods. “These,” he says, and points at the pencil sketches. 

Frank sinks to the floor, crosslegged, and holds out his hands for the papers. He leafs through them, and Gerard can’t escape this – he looks delighted. 

“They’re Mikey,” he says at last. “All of them, right?”

Gerard nods, and Frank wriggles across the floor so he can lean on his legs. 

“Just bits of him?”

“They’re studies,” Gerard explains. “Sketches of parts of Mikey that I was struggling with.” He shrugs. “And I guess they’re doodles as well, you know. Things that were on my mind.”

Frank traces the curve of Mikey’s lips gently with his finger. “They’re good.” He frowns at the paper, clearly pondering something and Gerard, his heart in his mouth, reaches out and tangles his fingers in Frank’s hair. 

It makes Frank look up and push into Gerard’s touch. “Would you ever sketch me?” he asks, and Gerard swallows.

“I already do,” he says, the words small as the most shameful sin he ever confessed. “But I was thinking, after you’ve looked at all these, maybe I could…”

“Draw me?” Frank’s face is lit up like the sun. “Gee, that would be _cool_.”

He looks so enthusiastic that Gerard feels his reservations start to melt away. 

“You might change your mind when we start,” he says, because Frank deserves to be warned. “You’ll have to sit still and it can feel odd and…”

“Dude.” Frank shakes his head. “You think I got to move much when I was getting inked?” He laughs at the look on Gerard’s face, but there’s nothing mean in it. “Seriously, stop stressing. It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” Gerard shrugs, tenses his fingers against reaching for his art materials already, because there’s one last thing he wants Frank to see. Instead he reaches for Frank’s hand and tugs him to the end of the room. “Here. Just look at this first.”

He pulls out the last canvas from where he had it propped facing away from Frank, and Frank’s eyes go wide. “Mikey,” he says and Gerard looks at the door to the room where Mikey is watching them with a warm, pleased smile. 

“It’s beautiful.” Frank sounds completely sincere, and it makes something relax inside Gerard’s chest. “Have you ever shown this?”

Gerard tries to look at the portrait through Frank’s eyes, to see what he’s seeing. Mikey is naked in the picture apart from his glasses perched low on his nose. He’s holding a book – Irvine Welsh, if Gerard remembers correctly. He wouldn’t put it down while he posed, and in the end Gerard had given in and included the book in the picture. 

“No,” he says. “People would look at it and know.”

Frank frowns at the picture. “Yeah,” he says at last. “I guess they would. It’s…” he shrugs, gestures, “right there, isn’t it? Everything you feel.”

Gerard nods. “I don’t want to share that. I don’t want to share it with anyone.” He swallows. “Apart from you, now.” 

Frank turns to look at him, and Gerard blinks, overwhelmed by everything he can see on Frank’s face. It’s a lot, maybe too much, and Frank seems to understand that. 

“So,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “You gonna make me look like that, Gee?” He leans close so Gerard can feel his words against his face. “You gonna paint me like one of your French girls?” 

“I want to paint you,” Gerard says, fighting the way his voice wants to shake. “But I thought maybe I could do some sketches now?” 

Frank nods, and he looks nervous too, Gerard realizes. This is a risk for both of them – he’s stripping all Frank’s defenses away, laying him bare, even while he’s giving Frank the chance to see through his eyes. It’s intimate and terrifying – and it’s the thing Gerard wants most right now. 

“Where do you want me?” Frank asks, and Gerard has to bite back the immediate response of _anywhere_ , _everywhere_ , because Frank deserves more than a glib answer right now. 

“I thought you could sit in your chair,” he says, like he hasn’t been planning this since Mikey made the suggestion, trying to work out a space where Frank would be comfortable, where he could relax. 

“And clothes?” Frank sounds curious now, and Gerard shrugs, suddenly shy. 

“Whatever you want,” he says. “Whatever makes you comfortable.” 

“But what do you want?” Frank asks. “What do you want to see, Gee?”

“Whatever you want to show me.” Gerard can’t help saying it – it’s the truth, and he wants, more than anything, to see whatever Frank wants to share, to learn the stretch of his muscles, the patterns of his tattoos on his skin, the way he moves and poses and is still. 

“So,” Frank looks up from under his lashes, “I could pose like this?” He gestures at his work-strained jeans, the ratty hoody that covers at least three other tops, and Gerard nods. 

“If that’s what you want.” He looks away, not able to stop the color rising in his cheeks. “I mean, I put the heat on earlier so the room is warm in case you wanted…”

“In case I wanted to be naked?” Frank asks, sounding delighted. “Gee… are you trying to get me out of my pants?” 

It makes Gerard smile. 

“A little.” He lets his gaze rove over Frank’s body, lets Frank see. “Your chair’s leather though. You should keep your shorts on.”

It diffuses the tension, and Frank is grinning as he strips. 

Still, he hesitates before he climbs into his chair. “You gonna come and watch?” he asks, and Gerard looks behind, sees that he’s talking to Mikey.

“For a bit,” Mikey says and walks across the room, trails his fingers across Gerard’s shoulder before he goes to sit on the floor across from Frank. “‘Sides, you probably need advice from a master.”

“Yeah?” Frank settles into his chair, and Gerard doesn’t think he’s imagining how much more relaxed he is with Mikey there. “You think you got things you can teach me?” 

Mikey smirks at him. “Enough to know you’ll regret that pose in about ten minutes.” 

Frank frowns and looks at Gerard, concerned. “Really?”

“Probably.” He’s sitting on his leg; if Gerard was painting a portrait it would be a problem. “But I’m only drawing sketches, Frankie. You can move if you want to.” 

Frank nods, looking relieved. “How would you sit?” he asks Mikey, and Mikey grins. 

“If it was a portrait? In a position that I could relax in, that wasn’t going to leave me with a dead leg at the end of it.”

Gerard hides a smile behind his drawing pad, starts to sketch the line of Frank’s shoulder. Frank looks like he’d be taking notes if he could, and the fact he’s so committed to getting this right makes something warm curl in Gerard’s chest. 

Honestly, he’d only intended to draw some sketches – partly because Mikey had suggested, partly because he’s wanted the chance to _look_ for a long while now. If nothing else he’d hoped that he could draw Frank’s tattoos accurately. Now though, he has more ideas than he can process – pictures of Frank, smoking naked in his chair, Mikey and Frank together, captured on canvas…

He takes a breath and concentrates on what he’s doing now, and when he looks up, Mikey is smiling like he’s able to read his mind. 

“You should try a few different poses,” Mikey tells Frank. “Find positions that work for you so you can sit longer next time. Besides,” he settles back, lounges against the sofa, looks at Frank. “Gerard wants to see all your tattoos, and you’ll need to move around to show him.”

“You want to draw my tattoos?” Frank asks, and Gerard nods, capturing the smile that appears on Frank’s lips with a few quick lines. 

He’s pleased when Frank relaxes, starts to play around with the poses a little, but it’s only when he kneels up and glances coquettishly over his shoulder that Gerard realizes that he’s mirroring Mikey. 

“You’re a bad influence,” he says, trying to hide his smile, but Mikey knows him too well.

“And you love it.” Mikey stands up, kisses Gerard on the forehead.

“I do.” Gerard catches his wrist, strokes it, frowns at the smudge of charcoal he leaves behind. “What do you think?”

Mikey looks at the sketches, his lips pursed, and eventually he nods. “They’re good,” he says. “You should work on something bigger.”

“Hey.” Frank scrambles out of his pose. “No fair. You haven’t shown me yet.”

It makes Gerard laugh, but Mikey just smiles, turns around and shoves Frank back into his chair.

“He’ll show you when he’s done,” he says, and starts moving Frank so he’s sprawled, lazy and relaxed-looking, his legs apart.

Gerard thinks that Frank might argue with him, but he doesn’t, just watches Mikey position him, his eyes dark.

“There.” Mikey steps back and smiles at his handiwork. “You look beautiful, Frankie.” He kisses Frank’s cheek and turns away. “You got this now?”

Gerard looks at him, baffled and Mikey sighs.

“You got this,” he says again. “I’m gonna go and read for a bit.”

He leaves on the words, and Frank and Gerard look at each other, and it’s so impossibly _awkward_ that they both start sniggering, and Frank looks so beautiful, his head thrown back, laughing, limbs sprawled, half-hard in his shorts, that Gerard has to capture him like that.

When he finally looks up and notices, Frank looks properly relaxed. 

“You enjoy doing this,” he says, and Gerard nods. 

“I don’t do it as much as I used to.” He concentrates on what he’s doing, carefully avoids looking at Frank. “It’s hard to find your focus when you spend all day working.”

“Tell me about it.” Frank’s voice is wry and when Gerard sneaks a glance at him, he looks like he understands. “Sometimes I finish work and all I want to do is come home and see you and Mikey, and the last thing I want is to go to practice.”

“You’re good though.” Gerard can’t fight the sense of vertigo at the thought that Frank might want to come home to _him_ as well as Mikey. “It’s worth it, right?” 

“You’re good as well.” Frank shrugs when Gerard looks up. “You shouldn’t limit your art to what you do for work.”

“I don’t limit myself.” Gerard does his best to fight the note of defensiveness he can hear creeping into his voice. “I just…” He trails off, unsure. Frank smiles like he understands everything Gerard isn’t saying. 

“You should put your art up,” he says. “You pin yourself in your room like you’re scared to be yourself outside of it.” 

Gerard shrugs and concentrates on how the tattoos on Frank’s stomach fold with his skin. “I don’t want to make you and Mikey to feel pushed out,” he says. “It’s not just my house, you know.”

“And it’s not just ours,” Frank says, and Gerard can see how his muscles tense as he talks, like he’s expecting a fight. “You coming out of your room means that we can be ourselves as well without worrying we’re crossing some invisible line.”

“Is that how you feel?” He frowns as he asks, suddenly scared that Mikey and Frank have been uncomfortable living with him. 

Frank starts to shrug before he remembers he’s posing and stops. “Sometimes.”

He doesn’t look angry though, just like this is a fact of life he’s come to accept, and Gerard remembers that things are changing – that this is one of the things that can change if he wants it to. 

“Is that why you keep your books in your room?”

“Mostly.” Frank looks around. “You keep the shared spaces so neutral, I thought this was how you wanted it.”

Gerard hears footsteps behind him, hears them stop in the doorway, but he doesn’t look around. 

“If I put my art up,” he says, “would you get some bookshelves down here?”

Frank’s mouth twists into a small smile and he nods. 

“Sure.” His eyes flick to the doorway and he bites his lip. “And what do you want, Mikes?”

“My stuff’s everywhere,” Mikey says, and to be fair, it is. “But…” he looks between them. “I think I’d like a room of my own.”

“Really?” Gerard can’t keep the shock from his voice because the house is big enough – there’s a guest room that has very few visitors, but Mikey’s always been content going between them.

“Yeah.” Mikey sounds braver now. “And I’d like it to have a bed big enough for the three of us.”

Gerard swallows, gives himself a moment to concentrate on shading the curve of Frank’s chest. 

“Yeah,” he says, and looks up, meets Frank’s eyes. “I think we can do that.”

Mikey hums and heads into the kitchen. Gerard can hear him starting to brew coffee, despite how late it’s getting. He and Frank share a look that is equal parts fondness and bafflement at how Mikey can drink caffeine at this time and still sleep. 

It makes Gerard realize that they probably need to wrap this up. He holds out his sketchpad to Frank. 

“You wanna look?” he asks, and Frank descends on him in a whirlwind of limbs and warm skin. 

“Gee.” His voice is hushed. “These are _amazing_.”

“You like them?” Gerard’s trying to be careful what he’s doing with his hands, but Frank is pressed so close that there’s nothing he can do but touch him. 

Frank nods his head, enthusiastic and overwhelmed and everything that Gerard wanted him to be. 

“I mean, I’m not sure I _look_ like this,” he says, “but I wish I did.”

“Really?” Gerard squints at the sketches that Frank is touching. “I thought I’d been accurate there.”

Frank smiles, shakes his head. “I’m not that pretty.”

Gerard just gapes at him. “But…” he reaches out, strokes the line of Frank’s jaw, the soft curl at the end of his hair. “Frankie, you _are_.” 

It makes Frank look suddenly shy, and this time when he presses into Gerard’s body it feels like he’s seeking reassurance. 

“I’m nothing special,” he says, and Gerard has to bite his lip to stop himself arguing, because this is the reality of how Frank feels and it won’t help to fight him on it. “I’m just a mechanic, you know?” 

“Yeah.” Gerard tightens his arms around Frank. “And I’m just a body in a comic-making-shop.” He laughs at the look on Frank’s face, presses his finger to his lips. “This is what I see when I look at you.” He traces Frank’s lips with the tips of his finger. “I might be biased, but I think I’ve got a good eye.” 

Frank sighs and the fight leaves him with his breath. He curls into Gerard, pushes his face into the curve of Gerard’s neck. 

“I meant it,” he says, his voice muffled. “I want you to put your art up.”

“Yeah.” Gerard breathes in the scent of his hair and skin, lets himself relax. “Whatever you want.”

He can feel Frank’s smile against his skin and it reassures him he’s made the right decision.

“You’ll let us decide what art we want?” Frank asks, and it’s a big ask – but Gerard doesn’t hesitate before nodding. 

“The picture of me goes in my room,” Mikey says as he walks past with a mug of coffee, and Gerard can feel Frank’s smile, knows it mirrors his own. 

“It’s yours,” he says. “I’m glad you’ve got somewhere you want to put it, Mikes.”

Mikey nods and pauses at the door of the living room. “I’m going to bed,” he says. “You’re not going to be late, are you?” 

“No.” Gerard smiles at him, knows that no matter how brave Mikey is, his heart is fragile underneath everything. “We’ll be up in a minute.”

Mikey nods and turns to go, and Frank looks up, his attention suddenly sharp and hungry. 

“No beds,” he says. “You _owe_ us till Friday.”

Mikey snorts. “Like I’d forget.” He looks at them and his face softens. “And you owe me on Saturday.” 

It’s a loaded statement and it hangs heavy in the air, but Frank nods, and Mikey looks relaxed and happy as he starts to climb the stairs. 

“So.” Gerard traces his fingers over the swirl of ink on Frank’s thigh. “Was this okay? For a date, I mean.”

“This was a date?” There is mischief in Frank’s voice and his smile. “Oh, Gee. You should have said.”

The faux innocence in his voice makes Gerard snigger. 

“Dork,” he says. “There were candles. I showed you my etchings. You knew what this was.”

“But you didn’t _say_.” Frank pokes him in the chest and Gerard catches his wrist. “I’m not a mindreader, Gee.” He wriggles closer until his breath is gusting against Gerard’s cheek. “I need… flowers… or something.”

“I can do that.” Gerard pulls Frank close enough that he can mouth at the skin of his shoulder. “Shoulda told me you wanted to be pretty, Frankie.” He ghosts his lips up the line of Frank’s neck, feels how Frank shivers for him. “You busy Thursday night?”

Frank’s eyes flutter shut and Gerard can _feel_ how much he wants this. 

“Mikey,” he says. “It’s his last night before…” he breaks off, licks his lips. “We need to…”

“Yeah.” And if there is anything that could melt Gerard’s heart more than it is at the moment, that’s it. “So not until after.”

“We have the weekend?” Frank says. It comes out like a question. 

“Mikey,” Gerard says, and sees the understanding in Frank’s eyes. “I promised he could have whatever he wanted this weekend, and I kinda thought we could get a bed for his room as well.”

Frank’s mouth twists, but Gerard thinks he’s smiling, can’t see any resentment or hesitation in his face.

“’S moving fast,” he says. “You ready for this, Gee?”

Gerard nods, because, yes. It is, but he’s ready. “Are you?” he asks. 

Frank ducks his face so it’s pressed against the side of Gerard’s and can feel his smile against his skin. “Born ready,” he says and they’re so close, have waited so long that Gerard reaches up with shaking fingers and turns Frank’s face towards him.

“Can I?” he asks, and Frank nods and tangles his fingers in Gerard’s hair, closes that last tiny gap, and kisses him. 

After all this time, it’s so gentle – even with Frank almost naked in Gerard’s lap, it’s almost chaste, but then Gerard sighs, and Frank presses forward and slides his tongue between Gerard’s lips and Gerard _moans_. 

“Jesus.” Frank pulls back, runs his fingers over Gerard’s face. “ _Gerard_.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he just shakes his head, like there aren’t the words to express his thoughts, and he leans in, kisses Gerard again and again until they are both breathless with it, until Gerard is hard and trying not to thrust up against Frank.

He doesn’t want to pull back now, is sure that Frank doesn’t either, but he knows that Mikey is waiting for them upstairs, and they’ve waited so long now that he doesn’t want to rush this.

Still, it takes everything he has to pull away and Frank groans when he does, leans in to chase Gerard’s lips. 

“Next week,” he gasps, and Frank finally pulls back, his eyes tracking Gerard’s lips as he speaks. “We… Mikey…”

“Yeah.” Frank’s mouth twists, and he does lean in to press a gentle kiss to Gerard’s lips that promises everything. “Next week.”

His gaze is heavy on Gerard, and Gerard can feel it long after Frank’s gone to his room, long after Gerard’s in his own bed, listening to the muffled groans from next door. 

He falls asleep with his fingers on his lips, feeling the curve of his own smile, remembering and imagining everything all at once. 

—

In retrospect he should have expected Frank to do something like this because there are a lot of things that Gerard’s coming to love about him, and one of those is the fact he’s a little shit. 

Still, it’s a reasonable assumption that if you go out to pick up some take out and leave your … partners (Gerard supposes is as good a description as anything else at this stage) reading quietly and fully clothed in the living room, that this is how you will find them when you return. 

Gerard certainly didn’t expect to come back and find this. 

Mikey is kneeling, naked and already hard, in the middle of the living room; Frank is standing in front of him, his face stern, something in his hand that looks like a cross between a buttplug and a tail, and… Oh. Gerard stops in his tracks. 

“If you want it,” Frank says, his voice serious, “you’re gonna have to beg for it, Mikes. You’re gonna have to beg _Gerard_ for it.” 

Mikey whimpers and bends down, presses his cheek to Frank’s foot, but Frank just laughs. 

“What?” He fondles the tail, looks up and sees Gerard, smiles – wicked and hot. “You don’t want Gee to know what a greedy little whore you are?” He bends down, tips Mikey’s face up. “I got news for you, baby. He already knows.” 

Mikey whines, wordless and desperate as Frank pulls him upright by the hair. 

“Look at you.” He looks down the length of Mikey’s body, his lip curled. “Such a hot little bitch, such a fucking _slut_.” He steps back, balances while he touches Mikey’s cock with his foot. “Look at how hard you are. Look at you getting off on this. What do you think Gerard would say if he could see you now?” 

“Please.” The word is breathless and thready. “Don’t… Frank…”

Frank pulls his arm up and backhands Mikey across his face, hard enough that Mikey rocks back on his heels. 

“Did I say you could talk?” His voice is dangerous, his eyes dark. “Do good puppies talk?”

Mikey whines again, shakes his head, and Frank strokes the red mark he’s left on his face. 

“You want to be a good puppy,” he says. “I know you do, Mikes.” He squats down so he’s eye level with Mikey. “You want to be good and you want to earn your tail back and you want to be bred like a little bitch for us tomorrow.” 

Mikey nods, and Gerard can see how he’s shaking, how he’s fighting to stay still. 

“You gotta earn it.” Frank’s voice is gentle now. “You always like it more when you’ve earned it, baby.”

Mikey makes an incomprehensible noise and pushes his face into Frank’s hand. It’s almost gentle for a second and then Frank brings the tail up to Mikey’s lips. 

“You want your tail?” Frank looks up, meets Gerard’s eyes. “You wanna be a proper puppy for us?”

Mikey nods, making wordless noises that fall somewhere between barks and whimpers. Frank smiles, stands up, walks towards Gerard. 

Gerard catches the exact moment that Mikey sees him, the way Mikey’s eyes flutter shut, the way his cheeks flush with shame, the way his cock jumps. 

Frank seems almost cautious as he walks across the room, and his hands are gentle as he takes the food from Gerard, puts it on a side table where Gerard will find it in the morning. 

“Okay?” he asks, and when Gerard nods he stands on his tiptoes, kisses Gerard, slow and filthy, until Gerard is making helpless little noises into Frank’s mouth. 

This is still so new, it’s almost like a shock. There’s nothing familiar in the way Frank kisses, in the way he tastes, and Gerard wants to learn him so badly that he burns with it. When Frank pulls away, Gerard leans after him, helpless not to, and it’s only when Mikey makes a tiny gasping noise that he remembers, catches himself. 

Frank notices – of course he does – and the tiny smirk that twists his lips is almost smug. 

“Hey,” he says and reaches up to touch Gerard’s lips. “Can I?”

Gerard nods, not sure what he’s even agreeing to, and Frank doesn’t say anything else, just slides two fingers into Gerard’s mouth.

“Suck,” he says, and Gerard does, traces the length of his fingers with his tongue, tasting him, feeling how his fingers are calloused, how those callouses catch on Gerard’s teeth, on the back of his lips. 

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice is hoarse now, and Gerard can see how much he wants this, how they are both so close to this that everything has become loaded with meaning. 

But Mikey is here, and this is Mikey’s night, and this time when Frank pulls away, pulls his fingers free, Gerard lets him go. 

Mikey is watching them with wide, dark eyes and when Frank gets close to him he whimpers.

“All fours,” Frank says, and there is still a rough edge to his voice. “Present for me.” 

Gerard can see the shame settle on Mikey’s skin, but Mikey doesn’t look away. Instead he keeps eye contact with Gerard as he leans forward, presses his chest to the floor like he’s doing some sort of half press-up or something. 

The position pushes his ass in the air, and Gerard can’t see exactly what Frank’s doing, but he knows the exact moment Frank pushes his fingers, still slick from Gerard’s mouth, into Mikey. He can see it in the way Mikey’s eyes widen, in the way he bites his lip, in the tension of his muscles and the flush on his chest. 

He’s so caught up with watching that he misses the first time Frank calls to him – and maybe the second time as well. 

“Yeah?” He can’t help the blush that colors his cheeks when he finally looks at Frank, but Frank just smiles like he understands. 

“Lube the plug?” There’s a note of hesitation to his voice, but Gerard wants to be part of this – needs to be part of it – so he kneels in front of Mikey and picks up the tail and the lube and makes a show of slicking it up. 

Mikey watches every move he makes, a desperate, hungry expression on his face.

“It’s huge.” Gerard hands the tail to Frank. “Can he take it?”

“Of course.” Frank trails his fingers over the soft skin of Mikey’s hip. “You know what a greedy little bitch he can be.”

Mikey closes his eyes, and Gerard is close enough to see the fan of his lashes on his cheeks, but Frank doesn’t hesitate. He places the plug at the entrance to Mikey’s ass, twists his hand so the very tip penetrates him, then stops. 

“Ask for it,” he says, and Mikey’s mouth falls open on a hot, damp sigh. “Make me believe you want this, or it stops now.” 

“Please…” Mikey’s voice breaks on the word. “Please, Frankie. Gimme my tail. I’ve been good for you. I promise. All week…” He stops on a sob as Frank pushes plug home in a firm, steady movement. Gerard was right – the plug is _big_ , but Mikey breathes into it, and in the end it slides home in a way that makes Gerard’s breath catch. 

For a second Mikey is completely still, his head hanging down. Frank strokes his hand over the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders and looks up at Gerard. 

“He’s already close,” Frank says, and for the first time it sounds like he has some sympathy for Mikey. “And the plug is pressing against his prostate.”

Gerard hisses. Mikey is sensitive, and to have stimulation like this when he hasn’t come in a week, when he’s already begging, must be torture. He can’t help himself, he pets Mikey’s face and Mikey turns his head into Gerard’s palm and whimpers, helplessly. 

“Please.” Mikey’s voice is verging on frantic and Gerard can feel the exhalation of every word against his skin. “Please, Frankie. I know you said… but I want to come.”

Frank hums, and Gerard can see the devils dancing in his eyes. 

“Really?” He sounds thoughtful, but his tone is so at odds with his face that Gerard has to bite his lip to stop himself laughing. 

“Yes.” Mikey’s face is flushed, and Gerard can see how desperate he is for this. “I need this.”

“What will you do for it?” Frank’s voice is gentle, but he tugs on Mikey’s tail, and Mikey’s eyes roll back until all Gerard can see is the whites. 

“Anything.” The word is little more than a pant, but both of them hear it. “Anything, Frankie.” 

Frank runs his finger down Mikey’s spine – the barest featherlight touch. “We’ll see,” he says. “If you’re good for us, we’ll see.” 

Mikey nods, frantic, and Frank stands up, takes a step away. 

“I want to play fetch,” he says. It sounds innocent enough, but Gerard catches the look on Mikey’s face and feels excitement pool low in his belly. Every movement Mikey makes will rub the plug against his prostate – a game of fetch is going to be _torture_. 

By the time Mikey turns to face Frank he’s schooled his face back into impassivity, but Gerard would bet everything he has that Frank knows – knows and has been counting on it. 

He’s standing at the far end of the room now, holding the pink ball from behind the TV in his hand and weighing it like he’s considering something. 

Mikey is holding himself as still as he can, but every tiny movement, every tremor in his body makes the tail move, shifts the plug inside him. It’s a vicious cycle, and Gerard can see that if Frank waits for long enough that Mikey will fall apart all by himself. 

Frank doesn’t wait though. He tosses the ball, a high, short throw that leaves Mikey scrambling to catch it. He’s so focused on the ball, on getting it and returning it to Frank, that he only seems to notice he’s caught it in his hands when he’s moving back to Frank. 

The look on his face when he realizes nearly makes Gerard laugh, and he can see Frank bite his lip as well, and it reminds him how _fun_ this is – how lighthearted, even with the stakes that they’ve put on the game today. 

Mikey drops the ball and bends over, picks it up in his mouth, and crawls back to Frank, his expression a mixture of pride and chagrin. He drops the ball at Frank’s feet and whines, high and wordless. 

“Really?” Frank quirks an eyebrow. “Is that really how puppies play?” 

Mikey whimpers, and Frank purses his lips, considering. 

“You think I should give you another chance? You think you deserve it?”

Mikey barks this time, radiating determination from every pore, and Frank sighs, tosses the ball from hand to hand while Mikey tracks its every movement with his eyes. 

“What do you think?” Frank asks, and it takes Gerard a second too long to realize Frank’s talking to him. 

“Yeah.” Gerard’s voice is too hoarse and he has to clear his throat and try again. “Yeah. Let him try again, Frankie. He’ll try harder this time.”

“He’d better,” Frank says, but his eyes shine at Gerard and he throws the ball, low and hard, sending it across the room and into the kitchen, with Mikey racing after it. 

He manages it this time as well, brings the ball back in his mouth and Frank smiles.

“Good boy.” He tousles Mikey’s hair. “Now, drop it.” 

He catches the ball as Mikey drops it and throws it again. 

“He’s doing well,” Gerard says, and Frank grins, wicked.

“For now.” He takes the ball back off Mikey, throws it again. “He struggles with the plug at the best of times. We’ll see how he lasts today.”

Now that Frank’s pointed it out, Gerard can see it. Mikey’s movements are forced – he’s trying to balance chasing the ball and keeping his thighs tense so the plug doesn’t move much. But the tail _wags_ and as he brings the ball back this time, Gerard can see he’s covered in a fine sheen of sweat. 

“Enough.” Frank takes the ball off Mikey and points at the floor. “Down.”

Mikey lies on the floor and Frank nods at him, smiles, points at him and twists his hand. 

“Roll,” he says and Mikey rolls onto his back, knees and hands up like a puppy, exposing his belly. Now he’s in this position Gerard can see how sore his knees are, how red.

They’ll be sore, Gerard thinks, tomorrow – and then he remembers what’s happening tomorrow, how Mikey will be on his knees for it, and his mind shorts out. He sinks down next to Mikey’s runs his fingers over Mikey’s knee over and over again until Frank catches his wrist, stops him. 

“Mikey?” Frank pulls Gerard back, waits until Mikey looks at him. “Go get Flopsy.”

It takes Mikey a second to collect himself – Gerard can read every thought that passes across his face until he decides to obey Frank. After that it takes a matter of seconds before he rolls back over and bounds off, seconds more until Gerard can hear him clattering upstairs, running into the room above them. 

“We’re gonna play hard,” Frank says fixing Gerard with a look, his hand still on Gerard’s wrist. “You don't have to stick around if you don’t want to.”

“And if I do?” Gerard hopes his voice sounds less scared than he is, but he can see Frank’s face, is uncomfortably aware that Frank probably knows everything he’s feeling right now.

Frank’s grin is wicked. “Then you let me lead tonight, and you trust I know what I’m doing.” 

“Of course I trust you,” Gerard says, but Frank just smiles.

“We need ground rules,” he says. “I need to know what your boundaries are.”

He steps into Gerard’s space as he says it and tightens his hold on Gerard’s arm.

“Not much time for negotiation,” Gerard says, breathless and Frank’s mouth twists.

“So you’re just going to trust me then?” he says and Gerard just nods. “Okay.” Frank brushes a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You want to come tonight?” 

The question takes Gerard by surprise, and he blinks. “Mikey can’t,” he says at last, feeling Frank smile against the skin of his cheek. 

“And you think it’ll help him if you don’t either?” He sounds curious, and Gerard nods, suddenly unsure. 

“Cool.” Frank takes a step back and looks at him. “Can I try to make you come?”

“I thought we weren’t gonna do that till afterwards,” Gerard says, which isn’t no. He’s not sure he could say no right now if his life depended on it. 

Frank blushes, like he’s suddenly shy. “I was going to use Mikey,” he says, and oh. Yes. Gerard nods and can’t find it in himself to be properly ashamed at how eager he is. 

He can’t find the words though, but Mikey saves him from having to answer, crawling back into the room, a stuffed toy clamped between his teeth. 

He drops it on the floor and barks, and Frank lets go of Gerard, turns to face Mikey. 

“Hey.” His voice is softer than it has been, and Mikey watches him with wide eyes as he walks across the room and kneels in front of him. “You’re looking forward to tomorrow, aren’t you?”

Mikey whimpers and nods. He doesn't seem to know if Frank wants him to reply as a human or a puppy, but Frank doesn’t give him any clues, just takes Mikey’s face in his hands. 

“Have you asked Gerard if you can fuck someone else yet?” he asks and Gerard’s breath catches, because this is something that Mikey has done before, but Gerard never realized that Frank had sent him, had thought it was just how Mikey wanted it to be between them. 

Maybe this is Frank coming clean though, because his face is cautious when he casts a glance at Gerard. 

“Go on then.” Frank is talking to Mikey, but his eyes are still on Gerard. “Ask him nicely, get him to say yes, and I might let you come.” 

Mikey closes his eyes and inhales, a shuddering breath that Gerard can hear from where he’s standing, but then he opens his eyes again and as he crawls across the room, looking up at Gerard from under his lashes, he is completely focused. 

It makes Gerard take a step back, sit down on the sofa that bumps the back of his calves so that when Mikey reaches him he can rest his chin on Gerard’s knee. 

“Gee.” Mikey’s voice is soft, but it’s _his_ and it helps ground Gerard, makes him remember that this is the man he loves, no matter what game they’re playing. 

“Hey.” He tangles his hands in Mikey’s hair, tips his face up. “What do you want, Mikes?”

“Can I?” The words are small and normally Gerard would say _yes_ , but he promised he’d take Frank’s lead this evening and he tightens his hold. 

“Can you what?” he asks, and nearly laughs at the look of naked desperation on Mikey’s face, at how he wants this even while he’s hating every second of it. 

“Fuck someone,” Mikey says. Gerard cocks his head to the side, pretending to consider this. 

“Who?”

Mikey blushes, deep and so red that Gerard can feel the heat from his face. “I don’t know.”

“You want to fuck someone and you don’t know who?” Gerard raises an eyebrow. “Are you just gonna go out and find a stranger?”

“No.” With his hand in Mikey’s hair, Gerard can feel how he’s trembling, can tell how much this is turning him on, being forced to confess like this. “Frank is bringing someone home for me to fuck.”

“Frank is bring a stranger into our home?” Gerard massages his fingers across Mikey’s scalp. “And you want to fuck them?” He pauses until Mikey nods. “Why?”

“Because Frank wants me to.” The words are reluctant and even without the look on Frank’s face across the room, Gerard wouldn’t believe them. 

He shakes his head, mock sad. “Really? Because _Frank_ wants to see a stranger push his cock into you?” He sees Frank smile and it makes him feel braver, makes him believe he can play his part in this. “You think Frank really wants that? Would want it if it wasn’t something you needed?” Mikey shakes his head. “Try again, Mikes, and tell me the truth this time.”

“Because I want to be fucked like a bitch.” Mikey’s voice is a shade too loud, verging on a sob. “I want a stranger to fuck me and make me come and I want you to watch and Frank to watch and i want to come with his cock in my ass and I want to feel his come in me, and…” He pauses, sucks in a shuddering breath. “Please, Gee. You have to say yes. I’ve been so good all week.”

Gerard looks up, sees Frank’s eyes on them, on the picture they make together, and he nods his head. 

“Okay,” he says. “You can tell Frank I said yes.”

He expects Mikey to race off, but instead he lets his head sag, rests it wholly on Gerard’s leg and just breathes. It makes Gerard pause.

“I mean it,” he says. “I want to see you do this, Mikes.” He looks up in time to see Frank nod. “We both do.” 

“Yeah.” Frank comes over, kneels behind Mikey, close enough that he can rest his fingers on Mikey’s hips without brushing against his tail. “You’ve been so good, Mikey. You deserve this.”

It makes Mikey whimper and he turns around on himself until he’s licking at Frank’s hand, and Frank lets him, his face warm and amused. 

“Hey,” he says when Mikey has quietened down, is clearly in another headspace – gone somewhere that Gerard doesn’t recognise yet. “You still want to come, beautiful?” 

Mikey whimpers some more, nodding his head frantically. He’s still hard, Gerard notices, so hard it looks painful. 

Frank bends down and kisses Mikey’s forehead, tolerates the way Mikey licks any part of him that comes close enough. 

“I’m not promising you anything,” he says, “but I might let you come if you let Gerard watch you hump Flopsy.” 

Mikey’s face is hidden, but Gerard sees the breath he takes at the words and _knows_ how ashamed Mikey is. But Mikey’s cock is flushed and hard and Gerard thinks he might be starting to understand how humiliation turns him on, how fine the line is for him between the things he longs for and the things he hates. 

It’s in the phrasing, he guesses. In knowing that he’s seen in all his glorious, filthy imperfection and how he’s loved anyway – maybe even loved because of it rather than despite of it. So, Gerard leans forward and taps Mikey’s tail, watches how the vibrations make Mikey’s body twist. 

“He’s such a good puppy though,” Gerard says, looking at Frank and trying to keep the smile from his face. “Surely he wouldn’t do anything as _dirty_ as that.”

Frank shoots him a smile, small and secret, before he schools his face into impassivity. 

“You’d be surprised,” he says. “He can be a filthy little bitch when you’re not looking.” 

Gerard hisses, mock sad. “It’s his age,” he says, cupping Mikey’s balls as gently as he can. “You should think of getting him fixed.”

“Nah.” Frank thumbs at Mikey’s lips. “He’s a good little breeding bitch. And he listens to me when I tell him to stop.”

“Really?” Gerard lets scepticism drip from the word. “Well, you know best I guess.” 

Frank tips Mikey’s face up – enough so that Gerard can see his broken-open expression – and soothes his fingers over the sharp lines of Mikey’s cheekbones. 

“Show him?” The words are a question rather than a command, and Mikey nods. 

Frank stands and takes a step away. “Don’t come without asking,” he says and smiles when Mikey whines. “We need to show Gee that you can obey my orders.”

He walks over to the sofa as Mikey starts to move, and sits next to Gerard, pressing into his side. 

“Watch.” His voice is a gust of warm breath in Gerard’s ear, and Gerard shivers, pushes himself closer to Frank as Mikey circles around the toy, almost wearily. 

For a second he thinks this will be too awkward and that Mikey won’t do it, but Mikey is so hard, and every movement he makes is shifting the plug inside him, and his desperation and desire is so heavy in the room that it’s almost tangible. 

He shifts so he’s straddling the toy and makes an indescribable noise, deep and desperate in his chest, and dips his hips so that his cock drags against the soft fur. It makes him whimper, and he thrusts once, his eyes closed and his mouth open, his fingers doing their best to dig marks into the wooden floor. 

What surprises Gerard is how slow his movements are, how cautious. He’s fighting so hard to control himself that his muscles are trembling with the strain of it, the tendons standing out on the back of his thighs, and his tail wagging softly with each move he makes. 

“He’s trying to make it last,” Frank says. “He doesn’t think I’ll let him come.”

“Will you?” Because Frank’s been convincing so far, letting Mikey think there’s a chance, but Gerard’s starting to learn that Frank is the best sort of asshole. 

Frank shrugs, but his eyes hint, and it thrills Gerard. 

Mikey’s pace is picking up, and he’s panting now, his tongue hanging out. His face is flushed, but Gerard doesn’t think it’s shame any more – it’s arousal. His movements are jerky, like he’s torn between the friction of his cock rubbing against the plush fur of the toy and the shift of the plug inside him. 

“Can he come like this?” Gerard asks, just loud enough that Mikey can hear

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice is rough. “Seen him do it. He prefers it to jacking off when he’s in this space.”

Gerard nods, not able to find words because he wants to see that – even if he’s sure he’s not going to see it this evening. Mikey’s thighs are tense as he thrusts, and Gerard’s fucked him before when he’s this close – he knows how Mikey’s ass will be working around the plug and he’s suddenly, impossibly jealous and turned on. 

Frank shifts next to him, his face still very close to Gerard’s. Gerard realizes that Frank’s as turned on as he is, and it takes everything he has to keep going with the game, not to just reach out to Mikey and Frank and pull them both close, to fuck them together. He groans, and Mikey whines at the sound and the movements of his hips turn staccato, start following a faster beat. 

“He’s getting close,” Frank says in his ear, even though Gerard can tell that. “He’ll be soaking Flopsy’s fur.”

“He’s so wet.” Gerard’s voice is shaking. “When he’s like this…. he…”

“Yeah.” Frank slides his arm around Gerard, his fingers tight on Gerard’s shoulder. “I know. It’s fucking beautiful.” 

“Please.” Mikey’s voice is a shock after the chorus of whines and panting moans he’s been making for the past lifetime. “Please, Frank. Let me?”

“Let you what?” Frank leans forward, his arm still around Gerard. “Are you gonna come for me like a pretty little thing?”

“Yeah.” Mikey sounds desperate or hopeful, or some terrible bastard offspring of the two. “Yeah. Frankie. I need to come. Let me come. I wanna…”

“Kneel up.” Frank’s voice is suddenly harsh, and Mikey sobs as he does, his cock jerking, like just one more touch, just a _breath_ would be enough to make him come.

“Please,” he says again, his hands fisting and releasing against his thighs over and over, and Gerard would give in, would let him come, but Frank shakes his head. 

“No,” he says, and Mikey believes him, starts to cry in earnest, the tears running down his face, captivating, beautiful. 

Frank lets him cry, waits until he no longer looks like he’ll come with the slightest touch, before he clicks his fingers.

“Mikey,” he says. “C’mere.”

There are still tears on Mikey’s face as he crawls close. Gerard can see the marks they leave when he presses his face into Frank’s leg. 

He’s not sure what Frank’s intending and it’s almost a shock when Frank pulls his arm back from around Gerard and unzips his jeans. 

He was right as well. Frank is as turned on as he is, and his cock is beautiful. Frank pulls it out of his pants and fists it a few times, both Mikey and Gerard following the movement with their eyes. 

“You gonna suck me?” he asks, and Gerard has to bite back the _yes_ that springs to his lips because the question isn’t for him. 

Mikey doesn’t answer, just bows his head and takes Frank’s cock in his mouth. Frank sighs, some of the tension easing from his frame, and Gerard takes the risk, puts his arm around his shoulders and holds him while Mikey starts sucking in earnest. 

He loves when Mikey sucks him like this, like it’s the only thing that matters in the world, and it feels like a privilege to see him take Frank apart like this. Gerard’s seen how forceful Frank can be, but he isn’t now. He sits, passive and pliant, while Mikey forces his own head down on Frank’s cock, choking on it and drooling over it, messy and perfect. And the whole time his eyes are on Frank’s, and Gerard _gets_ it – how in love they are with each other, how safe they are together. 

When Frank’s breath starts hitching and his hips start moving in involuntary jerks he reaches out and touches Mikey’s hair – but it’s the gentlest touch, something almost worshipful rather than the demanding grip that Gerard might have expected. 

“Mikey,” he says, his voice rough and then he presses into Gerard’s arm as Mikey sinks his head down, swallows and swallows as Frank comes in his mouth, and Gerard presses his face into the sweat-slick skin of Frank’s temple, utterly overwhelmed. 

Frank pulls Mikey into his lap after he’s finished, kisses Mikey’s bright, proud smile with sweet, filthy kisses and reaches around him to grip the base of the tail. 

“Ready?” he asks, waiting for Mikey to nod before he pulls the plug free and tosses it away across the room with uncharacteristic unconcern for the neatness of the room nor the trail of lube the plug leaves as it skids across the wood of the floor. 

It makes Mikey sigh. He’s still half hard and Gerard can see the goosebumps on his skin where his sweat is drying. He looks exhausted – beyond desire or hope – and he drops his head to Frank’s shoulder, to where Frank is still pressing into Gerard.

“Gee doesn’t want to come,” Frank says, his voice dreamy and Mikey looks up, his expression suddenly sharp again. “He thinks it isn’t fair if he comes while you can’t.” 

“I…” Gerard doesn’t know what to say. He shrugs instead, and Mikey’s mouth twists into the smallest smile. 

“He’s hard though,” Frank continues, sadistically conversational. “I bet you could _make_ him come, if you wanted to.”

Mikey looks thoughtful. “What do I get?” he asks. “If I do?”

“What do you want?” Frank asks, sounding interested. 

The response is immediate. “To sleep at your feet.”

Frank looks puzzled. “You already were going to,” he says, but Mikey shakes his head. 

“Both of you,” he says, and Gerard is close enough to feel how Frank stops breathing for a second at the words. 

“Yeah,” he says, carefully and resolutely not looking at Gerard. “Yeah, Mikes. You can have that.”

Mikey’s radiating triumph as he slips off Frank’s legs and kneels in front of Gerard.

“Not gonna come?” he asks, smiling up at Gerard like he knows who’s going to win this one as he undoes Gerard’s pants and pulls his cock free. “That’s a fucking shame, Gee.”

He starts licking over Gerard’s cock, little strokes of his tongue that are too much, not enough, because Gerard is so hard, so _ready_ already. It’s intoxicating and Gerard almost doesn’t notice when Frank slides his arm around him. 

“He’s gentler than I’d be.” Frank’s talking directly into Gerard’s ear and the gentle brush of his lips makes Gerard shiver and press back against him. “I’d be fucking deep-throating you already.” 

“Yeah?” Gerard doesn’t mean to sound as hesitant as he does, but he can’t help it. Mikey’s started mouthing at the head of his cock, running his lips over and over it, and Frank’s fingers are skimming the top of his chest. “You wanna choke on my cock, Frankie?” 

“Yeah.” Frank doesn’t sound hesitant at all. “And you want me on my knees, don’t you? Next to Mikey. Fighting to take turns sucking you.” 

He pinches one of Gerard’s nipples just as Mikey finally sinks his head down and Gerard groans and bucks his hips. 

“Mikey,” he says, tangling his fingers in Mikey’s hair. “Frank…”

“What?” Frank’s twisting his nipples now, a sweet spike of pain that makes what Mikey’s doing all the better. “You gonna come for me, Gee?” He bites at Gerard’s jaw, kisses the mark he’s left. “Gonna come for Mikey?”

Mikey hums at the words and it’s too much – this whole night’s been too much. He comes, hard enough that he sees stars. 

It’s disappointing when Frank pulls away before he’s even opened his eyes, but feels almost inevitable. Gerard takes a moment to feel abandoned before he feels a hand on his knee and opens his eyes, looking down. 

Frank’s kneeling at his feet, kissing Mikey, and Gerard realizes with a shock that Mikey hasn’t swallowed – that Frank is licking his come from Mikey’s mouth – and it doesn’t matter how hard he just came, his cock twitches in a desperate attempt to get hard again. 

“Hey,” he says, and they both look up at him, sticky lipped and wide eyed. “You guys leaving me alone up here?”

They glance at each other and that’s all the notice Gerard gets before they’re climbing on him, affectionate and warm and sharing kisses that taste like him, taste like Frank. 

“I did well?” Mikey asks at last from the tangle of limbs they are now. 

Gerard nods. “You did so good, Mikes. You’re gonna be perfect tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Frank looks up from where he’s lazily sucking a mark onto Mikey’s collarbone. “You did so good, beautiful.” 

Mikey makes a wordless noise of pleasure and pushes his face into Gerard’s neck as he runs his fingers through Frank’s hair.

“Can we go to bed then?” he asks and Frank looks up, smiles at Gerard.

“Yeah,” he says. “We can.” 

—

It should be awkward, sleeping with someone for the first time. Gerard’s always struggled in the past – has never, except with Mikey, managed to make it past the first few nights where everything feels hot and uncomfortable and strange.

So he’s not sure how he fell asleep so easily, or why it felt so utterly normal to wake up in the night with Frank in his arms and Mikey wrapped around his legs.

Mikey’s right though – they definitely need a bigger bed if they’re going to do this regularly.

And they will do this regularly, he thinks. It’s _nice_ waking up with Frank wrapped around him, his arms tight around Gerard’s waist, his breath hot on Gerard’s neck, his hips thrusting shallowly and rhythmically… Gerard’s eyes fly open. 

“Wondered when you were going to wake up.” Mikey sounds amused and Gerard doesn't have to look down to see him smirking. “You think he’s going to come soon?”

He probably is, and while there’s something perversely attractive about the idea of Frank humping him in his sleep, Gerard’s not sure their first time should be like this. Still… he gives himself a second and enjoys the feeling of it.

“He do this often?” he asks and Mikey sniggers.

“Enough.” He scratches Gerard’s ankle. “You learn to deal with it.”

“Yeah?” Gerard closes his eyes, feels the slide of Frank’s erection against his cleft. “How d’you do that?” 

“My favourite’s letting him get close, I mean _really_ close then rolling him over and pinning him.” Mikey’s grip tightens on Gerard’s leg. “He doesn’t deal with ruined orgasms well.” 

Gerard shudders, imagining Frank’s cock jerking, coming untouched; the frown of frustration that would be on his face… the things he’d do to Mikey after to get even. 

“I’m not you,” he says and Mikey hums softly. 

“No.” He sounds thoughtful. “You’re not. So… you gonna suck him off then?” 

“Mikey!” Gerard can’t help how scandalised he sounds, even though it makes Mikey laugh, even though that wakes Frank up. 

“Wha?” Frank sounds sleep confused and grumpy, and his arm tightens around Gerard, pulling him closer for a second, his hips thrusting just once more before he realizes what he’s doing and he forces himself to stop. “Um…”

His grip turns tentative and he pulls back as far as he can, puts a careful inch of space between himself and Gerard. “Sorry.”

It’s the last thing Gerard wants, and he rolls over, catches Frank’s wrists in his hands and pins them to the bed, slides his leg between Frank’s thighs. 

“Mikey was just telling me I should wake you up with a blowjob.” He moves so his thigh is pressing against Frank’s erection, so Frank can feel how hard he is too. “But you’re awake now.” He bites his lip, looks up from under his lashes. “So… maybe that isn’t a good idea anymore?”

“No.” The word is too quick for it to be cool, and Gerard has to bite back his smile at how flustered Frank is at this. “I mean, yes. I mean…” He takes a breath, looks down the bed. “Mikey… you are in so much trouble.”

Gerard hums, noses at the soft skin of Frank’s throat, at the scorpion tattoo he can’t believe didn’t hurt like fuck to get done. “Put him in his cage,” he says, because Mikey’s been a little shit this morning. “He deserves to be punished.” 

He feels the change in Frank’s body at the words, how he stops holding himself so carefully, how he starts pushing into Gerard at last. 

“Yeah.” He turns his face, brushes his lips against Gerard’s cheek. “Mikey…”

“Yeah, yeah.” The tone is grumpy, but Gerard knows his brother, can hear how pleased he is that he’s getting to be a part of this, how he’s getting what he wants. 

Gerard waits until Mikey shuffles off the bed before he dips his head and kisses Frank, quick and shallow. 

“Just a blow job,” he says, tightening his hold on Frank’s wrists, pressing him down onto the bed because it would be so damn easy to forget his resolve now, to fuck Frank, or let Frank fuck him. 

Frank nods, but he licks his lips and Gerard might have resolve, but he’s still human and he kisses Frank once more, nipping his lower lip before he pulls back, kisses the soft space of his suprasternal notch and lets go of his wrists so he can run his hands down Frank’s sides. 

Frank watches him, his eyes dark, and Gerard _wants_. 

“Gonna do everything to you,” he says, breathless and not trying to hide it. “Gonna learn every secret you have, Frankie.”

Frank nods, his breath catching when Gerard touches his nipples, when he traces the line of the tattoos that curve from his chest down to his hip. 

“Can I?” Gerard hooks his fingers into the waistband of Frank’s pyjama pants, and it takes everything he has to wait until Frank nods his assent. 

He knows what Frank’s cock looks like by now, has touched it more than once, but this is the first time he’s been this close to it – that he’s gotten to smell and taste and feel – so he takes a second, rubs his cheek up its length and kisses the tip, just to feel it jump under his lips. 

“Jesus.” Frank’s voice is rough but his hand, when he reaches down and touches Gerard’s face, is gentle. “I thought you were gonna get me off.”

It makes Gerard smile. “Patience,” he says, letting his lips move against the head of Frank’s cock with every word, “is a _virtue_ , Frankie.” 

Frank groans, and Gerard isn’t an asshole – not really – so he sinks his head down, sucks Frank’s cock into his mouth as he tightens his hold on his hips to hold him still. 

He thinks, when Frank tangle his fingers in his hair, that Frank will try to set the pace, but he doesn’t. Instead he seems content to be touching Gerard as he starts to work Frank over in earnest. 

And Gerard could do this for _hours_. Frank makes the most intoxicating noises, and he’s so responsive. It probably helps that he was close already, even before he woke up, but it doesn’t take long until his thighs are tensing and his balls are drawing up to his body while his breathing becomes rough and his fingers tremble, like he’s fighting to stop himself from tightening them in Gerard’s hair. 

“Gee,” he says, voice shaky, and Gerard knows it’s a warning, but he just sinks his head lower, hums and feels Frank’s cock swell, until it’s stretching his mouth, until the ridge under the head is pulling against his lips with every movement he makes. 

Frank’s body twists as he comes, and his groan does awful things to Gerard’s self control. Still, Gerard sucks him through it, waits until the last spasms of his orgasm have passed, before he kneels up and wipes his lips. 

“Frankie,” he says, voice hoarse and desperate. “I need… can I?”

Frank quirks his head, but Gerard doesn’t have the patience to explain. He reaches into his shorts, pulls out his cock, and jerks himself fast and unforgiving, to the sight of Frank spread out beneath him. 

It doesn’t take long – Frank is beautiful, still pink from his orgasm, his breath only just starting to calm, and he is watching Gerard avidly, and Mikey is watching as well, fingers wrapped around the bars of his cage – and Gerard, well. He’s always appreciated an audience. He comes, hard, over Frank’s stomach and cock and chest, and he wishes he could come again when Frank reaches down, swipes a finger through the mess Gerard’s made and sucks it into his mouth. 

“Jesus.” Mikey sounds awed. “Guys…” 

His eyes are so wide, his tone so reverent that Gerard knows he needs to be held so he flops onto the bed next to Frank and snaps his fingers. 

“C’mere,” he says and Mikey scrambles out of the cage before the words are done, bounces onto the bed next to them, looking down at them fond and proud. 

“Thought you two were never gonna do that,” he says at last. “Thought I was going to have to fucking chain you together or something.” 

“And now we have.” Gerard grins at him. “You still want this?”

Mikey nods and strokes his hand down Gerard’s thigh. 

“Course I do,” he says. “You think I didn’t think this through?”

“Yeah.” Frank stretches, languid and messy. “You’re a regular mastermind, Mikes. Now…” he drags his hand through the mess on his torso and holds it out. “Clean me up.” 

Mikey leans forward, sucks Frank’s fingers into his mouth and makes a show of licking them clean, but Gerard catches the pride on his face, the satisfaction, and thinks that maybe Mikey _is_ a mastermind after all. 

—

It’s still a Friday, and even if Mikey has the day off work, Frank doesn’t. 

It’s tempting to stay in bed, but Gerard’s mind is whirling – replaying what just happened and imaging what’s going to happen later – so he drags himself out of bed, and snaps his fingers until Mikey follows. 

They need a shower, he thinks, alien though the thought is, but the stickiness and vague sense of unsettled excitement motivates him until he drags a quietly grumbling Mikey in with him.

He’s careful how he washes Mikey, tries to keep his touches gentle and professional, very aware of how turned on Mikey was last night and not willing to risk to wind him up. 

But Mikey is pliant and quiet – a million miles from his normal self - and he lets Gerard manipulate and move him, uncomplaining and not pushing into Gerard’s touch, not even when he’s half hard. 

He looks happy though, and when Gerard starts to wash his hair, rubbing circles on Mikey’s scalp, he hums quietly and lets his eyes fall closed. 

It encourages Gerard and he takes his time, shampooing Mikey’s hair twice and massaging in conditioner before running his fingers through the strands, hunting out any last tangles. 

But the water heater sucks, and the shower starts to run cold before they’ve spent even half long enough in there. He pulls Mikey out and towels him dry first, before getting himself as dry as he can be bothered to and taking a step back.

“What do you want to wear?” he asks, and Mikey blinks up at him from under his lashes. 

“My collar,” he says, and Gerard swallows, because he saw where Frank had put it next to the bed last night, but he’s never put it on Mikey and it feels like a Thing. 

“You want to do it?” Gerard asks, and Mikey gives him such an unimpressed look that he almost laughs. 

“Puppies don’t put their own collars on,” he says in his very flattest tone, and yeah. Gerard can see that. 

He’s unaccountably nervous as he pads across Frank’s bedroom to his bedside table, like he expects Frank to suddenly appear and yell at him, but he doesn’t. Instead he feels Mikey’s eyes, heavy on him as he picks up the collar and turns around. 

“Mikey,” he says in a voice that doesn’t sound like his own. “Sit.” 

He clicks his fingers and points at the floor in front of his feet as he says it, and Mikey hesitates for a long moment before he sinks to his knees and crawls on all fours across the room towards Gerard. It’s beautiful and sensual and something Gerard never thought he would want and he has to close his eyes for a second to centre himself before he undoes the buckle and holds the collar out. 

Mikey bows his head, quiet and submissive, as Gerard fastens the collar around his throat, but when Gerard’s fingers brush against his pulse point, his heart is racing. 

“Such a good boy,” Gerard says, his mouth dry. “My very best boy.” 

They’re not words that feel natural in his mouth, but they’re worth it for the noise of helpless surrender that Mikey makes, for the way he pushes his face into Gerard’s hand. 

And after that there’s no hope of Gerard concentrating or being able to work. He has no idea how Frank is coping either and pulls out his phone a dozen times, only to delete the texts he writes unsent. 

In the end he decides he might as well do something productive and he heads downstairs to clean up for this evening. Maybe, he thinks, he should put together some snacks in case the other owner is hungry when they get here. 

It’s Friday, so there’s pitifully little to do to clean up. The cleaner comes on Thursday and there’s a limit to the amount of chaos they can cause in just one evening, so Gerard finds himself standing in the kitchen much too early, his laptop on the side with half a dozen open tabs for cakes and cookies and the sort of things that Frank can eat without regretting the hell out of his decisions later. 

“What should I do?” he asks, hating how confused he sounds, how vulnerable, but Mikey looks up from his place on the dog bed under the kitchen table and barks, just once, before settling down and watching Gerard with wide, accepting eyes. 

He’s on his own, it would seem, and he wishes – for the first time – that he’d asked Frank more about the people who were coming. 

It’s a Domme, he remembers, and her male pup, and he thinks about the entire sum of knowledge he has of dominant women and decides that he’ll makes some scones. Provided he doesn’t follow the logic too closely, it sounds like a good plan, and one that blossoms with the time he has into some weird-ass version of English afternoon tea that has him giggling to himself as he makes it, because sometimes his life is too surreal, even for him. 

It’s a good project – an English tea that Frank can eat – and he even has time to make some dog biscuits. Well, sugar snap cookies, flavoured with cinnamon, that are cut into the shape (if he closes his eyes and squints) of dog biscuits. 

Mikey seems to appreciate them at any rate – he eats two right from Gerard’s fingers while they’re almost too warm to touch. 

He’s almost relaxed by the time Frank gets home, and when Mikey barks at the sound of a car in the drive – Frank’s car – Gerard realizes with a start that he’s spent the whole day with Mikey as a puppy and it hasn’t felt odd or awkward even once. 

“Hey.” He bends down, runs his fingers under Mikey’s chin. “You’re amazing, Mikes, you know?”

For a second Mikey smiles up at him, open and free, before he scrambles across the house to bark at the sound of key in the front door. 

It’s only then that the awkwardness hits him, and he would hide the piles of baking he’s done (including the terrible, misshapen, dog-biscuits) if he only had the time, but if Frank has a superpower, it’s to show up where Gerard least wants him, and he’s in the door before Gerard has a chance to move, a small smile on his face, and his fingers tangled in Mikey’s hair. 

“Honey.” His voice is deep, amused, full of devilry. “I’m home.”

“Yeah.” Gerard is too flustered to come up with a smart rejoinder and he shrugs, feels the blush crawling over his cheeks. “So. I baked.”

“I see.” Frank doesn’t laugh though, just walks across the kitchen ignoring the piles of baked goods, until he’s up in Gerard’s space. “I’d say you shouldn’t have,” he traces a finger across Gerard’s lips, “but it’s sweet?”

“Sweet?” Gerard’s kinda horrified at that and Frank huffs out a laugh. 

“Sweet,” he repeats, cupping Gerard’s jaw. “Can I?”

“Yeah.” Gerard sounds breathless. He doesn’t care. “Frankie…” He puts his hand on Frank’s shoulder. “You don’t need to ask.”

Frank smiles but doesn't say anything. Instead he leans in and kisses Gerard, gentle and thorough, and it does more to calm Gerard’s nerves more than anything else he’s done today. 

Frank hums as he finally steps back. “Monday,” he says and brushes a kiss to Gerard’s jaw before turning around and looking at Mikey. 

“Hey, pup,” he says, and Mikey presses into the space between Frank and Gerard, presents his head for skritchings. “You got your collar then.”

“He asked for it.” Gerard shrugs, uncomfortable suddenly under Frank’s scrutiny. “I saw where you put it last night.”

“’S’cool.” Frank ruffles Mikey’s hair. “I’ll show you where the rest of his stuff is later so you can find it if you ever want it.” 

“You…” Gerard swallows, tries again. “You don’t mind?” 

It makes Frank smile, and he leans forward, pressing Mikey between them.

“Why would I?” he asks, and he kisses Gerard again, his fingers gripping onto Gerard’s waist. 

In the end, it’s only Mikey that stops them, wriggling between them until they take a reluctant step apart. 

“Grooming.” Frank fixes him with a look. “We gotta make you the prettiest puppy for your date, don’t we, beautiful?” 

Mikey barks and wuffles happily at Frank’s hand until Frank hooks a finger under his collar and pulls lightly. 

“Gotta get you clean,” Frank says and Gerard frowns. 

“I gave him a shower earlier,” he says, and Frank smiles at him like he’s missing the point. 

“Yeah.” He pulls Mikey’s head back, tips his face up. “That’s only half of it, isn’t it, Mikes?” 

Mikey’s face is flaming, and Gerard is confused. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, and Mikey makes a terrible, broken noise of humiliation. 

“You want me to tell him?” Frank runs his finger across Mikey’s lips. “You want me to explain how I make you clean before you get fucked?”

Mikey’s eyes are closed and he shakes his head, and Gerard really can’t understand why he’d be reacting like this, unless…

“An enema?” he asks, slightly shocked despite himself. “You’re gonna give him an enema?” 

“Yeah.” Mikey’s hiding his face in Frank’s thigh and Frank is rubbing soft circles on his head. “He likes how they feel, you know. He just hates admitting it.” 

“Oh.” Gerard’s never had an enema – it’s not something that he and Mikey have ever really bothered with, and, well… He’s hardly got the most extensive dating history after all. He can imagine how it would feel though, how it would be humiliating and vulnerable, how Frank would see _everything_ – all the things that Gerard thinks he’d want to keep hidden. He shivers, uncomfortably aware that he’s half-hard at the idea. 

It takes him a second to focus again, and when he does both Frank and Mikey are watching with dark, interested eyes. 

“Hey.” Mikey puts his hand on Gerard’s thigh and Gerard can see his chest move as he inhales. “You want to come with us?” He catches Gerard’s hand, cuts off the words he’s struggling to find. “I… I don’t know how long I want you to stay, but it’d be okay if you were there for the start.” He looks up at Frank. “I mean, that’s okay? Isn’t it?”

Frank runs his hand through Mikey’s hair, smiles down at him. “It’s your body,” he says, his voice careful. “It’s always your choice, Mikes, but, yeah. I’m happy for Gee to join in.”

They’re both so brave, Gerard realizes, so perfectly fucking brave, and that on its own would be enough for him. He nods. 

It’s worth it for the tiny smile that Mikey shoots him, for its twin on Frank’s face. 

“Mikes.” Frank rubs his fingers against Mikey’s scalp. “Why don’t you head up to the bathroom while I get my kit together, yeah?”

Mikey nods and heads off. Frank gives him a moment before he turns to Gerard. 

“I don’t have time to talk you through this,” he says, but there’s no hostility to his voice, “and if I start trying to it might push Mikey into a bad headspace, so…”

“I’ll watch while I’m comfortable and head out if I get uncomfortable,” Gerard says, shrugging. “I need to set things out down here anyway, and I thought I might put some of the puppy toys out for them to play with when they get here.”

“Yeah.” Frank’s nodding but he’s biting his lip like there’s something he’s not saying. 

“Frank.” Gerard reaches out and puts his hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to say anything that will make him feel bad. I’m going to be careful.”

Frank nods, his mouth grim. “I know,” he says. “But this whole thing,” he gestures around the room, at the refreshments, Gerard, everything, “makes him vulnerable and this… well.” He shrugs, clearly struggling to find the words, but Gerard thinks he understands. 

“I’m gonna go and sit with him,” he says, “while you find your kit, or whatever.” He smiles at Frank. “We’ll talk, okay?” 

He finds Mikey in the bathroom pulling out his favourite bath things – the bubble bath that leaves a sheen of oil in the tub, and his favourite unicorn bath sponge. It makes Gerard smile. 

“Gonna have a bath afterwards?” he asks and Mikey nods. 

“One of the benefits of being a puppy,” he says. 

“Yeah.” Gerard picks up the bubble bath and sniffs the bottle. “That and not having to clean the tub after, right?” 

Mikey smirks at him and takes the bottle back, putting it next to the taps. 

“You don’t have to be here for this,” he says, carefully concentrating on what he’s doing. “If you think it might be weird, I mean.” 

“Nah.” Gerard folds himself onto the floor next to the sink and watches Mikey dig out towels. “It’s not weird, Mikes, I just don’t know what to expect.”

Mikey shrugs. “Frank’s gonna stick a nozzle into my ass and fill me full of water,” he says, like it’s no big thing. “And I’m gonna try to be good and do what he says.” He turns and looks at Gerard. “He’s probably going to do it more than once.”

He says it like it’s a dare, and Gerard swallows, wanting to be careful about what he says, even though he’s almost too turned on to care. 

“How long do you want me to stay?” he asks, and Mikey smiles at him, his stance softening. 

“Until I’m holding the water in.” He leans over and flicks Gerard’s nose softly with his finger. “Then you can run as fast as you want.”

“Hey.” Gerard catches his wrist and links their fingers together. “I don’t want to run, I just…” He trails off and Mikey smiles at him. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I know. And some other time…”

“I’ll stay?”

Mikey shrugs. “Was gonna say that Frank can do it to you, but yeah. Whatever.”

The idea leaves him breathless and he’s not sure how he would reply, but in the end he’s saved by Frank who bangs the door open his arms full and grins at the two of them. 

“Whatcha talking about?” he asks as he dumps the stuff in the sink and starts sorting through it. 

“Well,” Mikey starts, and Gerard has a moment of lurching horror before Mikey grins at him. “Gee was just asking when he should go.”

“And you got it sorted?” 

Mikey nods. “Don’t want him to stay past the start. “ He glances down at Gerard. “Not this time, anyway.” 

Frank nods. “You okay with that, Gee?” He waits for Gerard to nod before he turns back to Mikey. “Okay.” He strokes his hands down Mikey’s hips. “Gee’s going to sit against the door, you’re going to be on your knees and elbows facing him. That okay?” 

It takes them a moment to get themselves sorted out and by the time they’re settled, Gerard can’t see much more than Mikey’s face.

It might be all he _needs_ to see though. Mikey’s face, contrary to what most of his friends think, is beautifully expressive if you know what you’re looking for – or if he trusts you enough to let his guard down. 

Gerard can see the exact moment that Frank slides the nozzle into Mikey’s ass just from the slight widening of Mikey’s eyes, and he reaches out and links his fingers with Mikey’s.

“You doing okay?” he asks, and Mikey nods, his eyes falling closed. 

“I forget how it feels.” His voice is a bit hoarse. 

“Yeah.” Gerard tightens his fingers around Mikey’s. “But you’re doing so well, Mikes. Isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice is rough. “You gonna take so much for me, baby.”

Color suddenly floods Mikey’s face and he ducks his head. Frank reaches out and smooths his hand down Mikey’s spine. 

“How is it?” Gerard’s voice is hushed and he nearly doesn’t ask – but he has to know.

“Warm,” Mikey says. “I feel heavy.” His head is resting on his forearms now, and he’s gripping and releasing Gerard’s fingers convulsively. 

It’s one of the most intimate things that Gerard’s every seen; the loudest sound in the room is the harsh noise of Mikey’s breath. 

“He’ll start cramping in a minute,” Frank says at last, and Mikey moans. “He usually does.”

“Yeah?” There’s a line of sweat sprung up on Mikey’s forehead now. Gerard wipes it away with his fingers. “Is that when you stop?”

Frank shrugs. “Sometimes. Sometimes rubbing his belly helps him take more.”

That makes Mikey whine and he tightens his hold on Gerard’s hands and twists his body. 

“Frank?” His voice is raw. “Please. I…”

“Cramps?” Frank sounds fond and warm, and Mikey nods frantically.

When Frank pulls Mikey up onto his knees, pulls him back so he’s cradled against his body, Gerard sucks in a breath. 

Mikey’s hard now, covered with a sheen of sweat, and his belly is noticeably distended. It’s terrible and beautiful and maybe the most intimate thing Gerard’s ever witnessed and he can’t move, can barely breathe, as Frank massages the swell of Mikey’s stomach, and Mikey pants and moans like he’s forgotten he’s ever had any filters. 

He’s starting to move to get up, to give them privacy, when Frank kisses Mikey’s shoulder. 

“Can you take some more?” he asks, and Mikey gasps, shakes his head. “Please, Mikes. For me?” 

It takes Mikey the space of several breaths, but at last he nods. “Okay,” he says. “But please, Frank. Not much more? I don’t think I can take it.” 

Gerard’s head falls back, hits the door with a dull knocking noise, and he closes his eyes. He needs to get out of the room, and it’s nothing to do with humiliation or disgust or distaste or any of the other things he thought he might feel.

“I should go.” When he opens his eyes they’re both looking at him. Frank smirking like he’s reading his mind, and Gerard blushes as he clambers to his feet. “I’ll just be outside, okay, Mikes?” 

Mikey nods and Gerard leans forward, kisses Mikey on the forehead then hesitates before pressing a kiss to Frank’s forehead as well.

“Look after him,” he says, and Frank smiles.

“I always do,” he says, then does something that has Mikey _moan_ like a brazen whore, something that Gerard doesn’t dare turn back to look at. 

He staggers from the room, shuts the door behind him and sinks to the floor, his ear pressed to the door. 

He can still hear Mikey whining through the wood, can still hear the gentle hum of Frank’s voice reassuring him. 

What would it be like? he wonders. To be that spread open? That seen?

He doesn’t want to, it feels wrong, but he slides his hand inside his jeans and jerks off with his face pressed to the door and his head full of images and noises and things he wants and needs and still can’t make himself name. 

He comes pitifully fast and slumps back against the door, breathless and slightly uncomfortable with himself. He can still hear noises through the door, but it feels like an invasion suddenly, so he wipes his hand on his t-shirt and pulls himself to his feet. 

There are clean clothes in his room, and he takes a few minutes longer than necessary shut away, sketching the look on Mikey’s face, the smile on Frank’s lips. It’s an indulgence, he knows, and maybe one he doesn’t have time for, but this whole evening is unsettling, and he needs to be centered, needs to have some control of himself if he’s going to be there for Mikey. So he calms himself with the familiar rhythm of pencil over paper. It takes less time than he thought before he’s steady enough to pull on new clothes and head downstairs, past the closed bathroom door and the sound of the bath running, to start setting out food. 

He’s actually cutting the crusts off sandwiches in some fugue-1950s-housewife state when Frank and Mikey reappear. It makes him take a breath – Mikey’s naked body looking more vulnerable, more _breakable_ next to Frank’s smart pants, short sleeved shirt…

“Is that a tie?” Gerard asks, his voice breaking, and Frank shrugs even as his lips twist in a small, secret smile. 

Then Frank’s eyes flick to the array of food on the kitchen table and it’s Gerard’s turn to shrug, not sure what to say, because saying that he’s nervous about this feels stupid. He’s not even doing anything – that’s all Mikey – and pretending he has any right to say something feels… wrong. 

But Frank always sees more than Gerard gives him credit for. He’s next to Gerard in a few quick steps, tossing the last sandwich to one side and pulling the knife out of his hands. 

“Come on.” His voice is gentle, but his grip on Gerard’s wrist is firm. “Come help me get Mikey ready.” 

“I should finish this.” Gerard doesn’t dig his heels in, but he resists as hard as he can without seeming obvious. 

It makes Frank frown and he loosens his grip, even though he doesn’t let go. 

“Tonight’s about Mikey,” he whispers, “but I want you to be happy too, Gee.” He strokes his thumb over the pulse point on Gerard’s wrist. “It’s cool that you’ve done all this, but you should leave it now. Come and help with Mikey, because he wants you there.” He looks up from under his lashes. “I want you there. And I think it will help you as well.” 

“Yeah.” Gerard takes a second to breathe, to try and find his centre, then he smiles. “C’mon then.”

Mikey looks up when they come into the living room. He’s kneeling in the centre of the floor, his hands clasped on the back of his neck. He’s hard and his eyes are wide and he looks frantic and beautiful. 

“You dried his hair,” Gerard says, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. “And he let you?” 

Frank nods and smiles at him, dark and wicked.

“You think pups get a choice about who grooms them?” he asks, walking over to Mikey to thread his fingers into his hair. “Mikey does what I say.” He pulls Mikey’s head back, exposing the long line of his throat as Mikey whines. “Put his collar on him for me.” 

The words take Gerard by surprise and he opens and closes his mouth, not able to find words. Frank, though, just smiles. 

“It’s on the coffee table.” He raises one eyebrow, a perfect, eloquent arch. “Get it.”

The words have the edge of a dare, but Gerard takes a breath, doesn’t rise to it. Instead he walks over to the table and picks up the collar from between Mikey’s tail and some lengths of black bandage that Gerard chooses not to think about. 

It’s a new collar – pink, pretty, about three quarters of an inch wide, with the word _princess_ spelled out on it in diamante. It feels heavy in Gerard’s hand and as he turns around, Mikey’s eyes are fixed to it. 

“Put it on him.” Frank’s voice is calm, commanding, and Gerard swallows and walks over to them. 

His fingers are shaking as he undoes the collar and slides it around Mikey’s throat. 

“Good boy,” Frank says, and Gerard’s eyes fall shut for a second because he’s not sure which one of them Frank’s talking to, and he doesn’t want to know either. 

The collar fits exactly, and when Gerard finally finishes fumbling it into place Mikey whimpers. 

“Good.” Frank runs two fingers between Mikey’s throat and the collar, checking its fit. “Now… get me the lube.” 

He’s put Mikey on all fours by the time Gerard turns back to him and is trailing his fingers down the line of Mikey’s spine in a light, slow cares that has Mikey shivering. 

“Here.” Gerard holds the tube out, but Frank shakes his head. 

“Finger him open,” he says, and it takes Gerard a second, but he nods and flicks open the tube, slicks up his fingers. 

He’s done this a thousand times, but never while anyone is looking on and it feels different, sliding his fingers past the tight ring of Mikey’s ass while Frank watches. He doesn’t let it rush him though. He takes his time, stretching Mikey’s ass until Mikey is panting under his touch, even though Gerard’s taking care to avoid his prostate. 

“Yeah.” Frank slips a finger into Mikey next to Gerard’s – and he doesn’t try to take care. He presses down _hard_ on Mikey’s prostate and Mikey moans, high and wordless. “You’ve stretched him enough, but he needs to be slicker before he’s fucked.” He looks at Gerard, his expression implacable. “Your choice – no one is going to lube him up if you don’t.” 

He probably wouldn’t let Mikey get fucked this dry, Gerard knows that – this is just part of the game – but for the moment he _believes_. He reaches for the lube again and puts more on his fingers, more on the outside of Mikey’s ass – more than he would ever usually use – and starts rubbing it into Mikey. 

“Lovely.” Frank’s voice is rough and deep. “You’re dripping like a bitch in heat, Mikes.” 

The words make Mikey whine, and he pushes back on Gerard’s fingers, writhing under Gerard’s touch until he’s humping Gerard’s hand, rubbing his prostate over Gerard’s fingers over and over. He’s panting, and Gerard’s frozen in place, unable to move except to crook his fingers a fraction to give Mikey something to rub against. 

“No.” Frank smacks Mikey’s thigh, just under the curve of his ass, and the impact rings out like a shot. He takes hold of Gerard’s wrist and pulls his hand free. Mikey moans at the loss. “You’ll come when I say you can.” His fingers tighten on Gerard’s wrist, almost to the point of pain. “And I thought _you_ knew better. Go sit on the sofa. We’ll discuss this later.” 

It isn’t what he wants from Frank, it certainly isn’t how he sees their relationship developing, but Gerard can’t help the disappointment that twists in his chest in response to Frank’s anger. 

He crawls to the sofa and curls himself up on it, dejected, and Frank sighs. 

“Fuck’s sake,” he says, though he sounds more fond than angry right now. “The two of you will be the death of me, I swear.”

There’s enough amusement in the words that Gerard relaxes slightly, looks up. He’s rubbing his wrist, he realizes, like he can still feel Frank’s fingers on him, and he forces himself to let go. 

“Sorry,” he says, and Frank’s mouth twists, like he’s not sure what to say, like the joke’s gotten out of hand. 

“I’ll owe you a spanking.” He raises an eyebrow at Gerard and reaches over to grab the tail, smearing the plug generously with lube. “You’ll pay in the end.” 

It makes Gerard smile and he hugs a knee close to his chest, rests his chin on it and watches as Frank pushes the plug into Mikey’s ass. Even as wet as he is, Mikey struggles to take it, and Gerard can see how he’s forcing himself to breathe, pushing himself back on it to help Frank. He moans as it finally slips home, his cock jumping and dripping precome onto the floor. Frank pats his butt, leaving a smear of lube on his skin. 

“Paws,” Frank says, and it takes Gerard a second to realize it isn’t addressed to him. 

By the time he has, Mikey has turned around and is holding his hands out to Frank. Frank grabs the black bandages and as he starts to unwrap them, Gerard realizes that they’re not bandages at all. They’re the black boxing wraps that Frank uses when he goes sparring with Bob from work. Frank starts to wrap Mikey’s hands, wrapping the fabric a couple of times around his palms before bending Mikey’s fingers into a fist and wrapping his whole hand. 

“Paws,” Frank says again, but this time he’s looking at Gerard, talking to him. “You can get these fancy mitts, but…” he shrugs. “When we started this we tried to make as much as we could ourselves, didn’t we, beautiful?” Mikey barks, and Frank smiles. “I like doing things myself where I can, but Patrick and Elisa – the people who are coming over this evening – have much more kit than us.”

“Is that a problem?” Gerard asks, and Frank shakes his head. 

“You do what works for you,” he says. “Mikey chose his collar because I wanted him to have something he liked, and I chose most of the toys and the tail, but things like muzzles and ears and paws…” he holds up Mikey’s hand, now securely wrapped so there is no way Mikey can move it. “I like ad libbing when I can.” 

He stands up and takes a step back, looking critically at Mikey. 

“Ears,” he says and turns to the table, grabbing the last few items. 

They’re novelty ears, Gerard sees, on a headband, floppy and cute, and Frank plays around with them until one is lying flat, and one is poking up, adorable and slightly inside out. 

Frank smiles, clearly happy with the result, and takes the last item in his hand. It’s a bow, on a clip, the same shade of pink as Mikey’s collar, and Frank pins it into Mikey’s hair carefully before standing up and taking a step back.

“Perfect,” he says. “You look beautiful, baby.” He turns his head, looks at Gerard. “What do you think, Gee?” 

Gerard takes a breath, ready to tell Mikey exactly how beautiful he is, but he’s interrupted by the door bell. 

The three of them stop, look at each other. 

“Well.” Even Frank sounds nervous. “Showtime, I guess.” 

_It’s not too late_ Gerard wants to say. _We don’t have to do this_. But before he can get the words out, Mikey takes a deep breath and juts his chin up. 

Both Gerard and Frank look at him, expecting him to say something, but Mikey doesn’t. He starts barking and scampers towards the front door – exactly like an excited puppy greeting guests. 

It makes Frank smile and he follows after Mikey, leaving Gerard alone. He picks up a couple of toys that he thought the puppies might like to play with, holds them uncertainly for a second, and puts them down on the coffee table. He can hear voices in the hall – Frank’s calm tones, the soft voice of a woman responding to him, Mikey’s excited barks, and the deeper wuffling noise of another puppy – and he knows he should join them, but for the moment he is rooted to the spot. 

He’s considering making a break for the kitchen when the decision is taken out of his hands. 

“… and this is Gerard,” Frank says, coming into the room, and common courtesy dictates that Gerard turn around and smile at their guest. 

“Charmed.” She holds her hand out and Gerard has to bite back a smile because she’s _tiny_ , and her smile is huge and warm, and she’s nothing at all like he expected. For a start, he thought she would be wearing leather or latex or something like on one of the fetish sites he certainly hasn’t taken to visiting, maybe a business suit and heels or something. Certainly not to be wearing jeans and a soft white t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. 

If she’s understated though, there is nothing underdressed about the puppy who’s following on a leash behind her. Well, apart from the fact that he’s stark naked, that is. Apart from that, he’s in full puppy kit, and he pants up at Gerard, eyes wide and tongue lolling, and Gerard shuffles back a step, not sure what to do until Elisa smiles and clears her throat, pushing her hand forward the smallest amount as if to remind Gerard of what he was doing. 

“Hi,” he says, remembering his cue and taking her hand to shake it. Her grip is strong, her skin soft, and when he holds on just a fraction too long, there’s a look of gentleness in her eyes that makes him understand why Frank chose her to bring a puppy around for this. “Can I take your jacket? Or get you anything?”

He sounds flustered, he knows, but she doesn’t lose her poise. 

“I’d love a coffee,” she says, and he nearly sags in relief, because that he can do. 

“I’ll get that for you,” he says and looks past her shoulder at Frank. “And one for you?”

Frank nods, straight backed and in control in a way that makes him weirdly unreadable, and Gerard turns away, only remembering what he’d wanted to ask when he gets to the kitchen door. 

“What should I call you?” he asks. 

Elisa smiles strangely at him and for the first time he sees how predatory she could be if she wanted to.“Most people would call me _Ma’am_ ,” she says, a wicked edge of amusement to her voice. “But Frank tells me you don’t play, so maybe you’d better call me Elisa.” 

He nods, and all but runs into the kitchen, as overwhelmed and confused as he used to be when he was a teenager his mom trotted out to her book group. 

By the time he’s fixed the coffee and put it on a tray with some of the sandwiches and things he’s baked, Frank and Elisa have moved to the sofa and are watching as Mikey and a compact, strawberry-blond puppy eye each other suspiciously, Mikey’s favourite unicorn rag toy on the floor between them. 

He pours them both a cup, fixes Frank’s with the almond milk and half-spoon of sugar Gerard knows he likes and hands it to him before offering the milk and sugar to Elisa with her cup. “It’s almond milk, sorry we don’t have any actual milk--”

“It’s fine, darling” she says, and Gerard tries to fight back his blush. He can feel Frank’s eyes on him, heavy as a weight, the whole time he’s waiting on her. 

He covers his embarrassment by hurrying back to the kitchen and filling one of Mikey’s dog bowls with water. He’s maybe overfilled it, but concentrating on not spilling it gives him something to focus on, and by the time he puts it down in the living room he feels vaguely acclimatised to the strangeness of the whole thing. 

“Hey.” Frank is watching him, an amused smile twisting his lips. “You gonna come and sit down with us now?”

He nods and walks across to the sofa, side-stepping around where Mikey and the other puppy are still facing each other. Gerard doesn’t know this other puppy, but Mikey is trying to make himself look as big as he can while being on all fours, and Gerard would bet that the other puppy is doing the same. 

“What’s his name?” he asks, and Elisa smiles at him like he’s a child who’s just performed a lesson well and Gerard is surprised at the swell of pleasure he feels.

“Patrick,” she says, and the other puppy – _Patrick_ – looks away from Mikey for a second, his eyes seeking her out. “He’s a Golden Retriever pup. Good at hunting, easy to train.” She looks over at him, and for a second Gerard sees genuine fondness in her expression. “Really excellent at breeding little bitches like your girl there.” 

The words hit Gerard like a punch to the gut, and he looks across at Mikey. He’s starting to crouch lower now; Patrick is crowding into his space, and while he’s small, he looks scrappy. 

“How do you know?” Gerard asks, the question coming out without his conscious will and when he looks up Elisa is raising an eyebrow quizzically at him. “What breed he is.”

“He told me.” She leans forward, looking from Gerard to Frank and lowers her voice. “You said that Mikey’s new to this, and he’s obviously keen.” She gestures to where Mikey is shoving at Patrick with his head, doing his best to fight back. “When we started, choosing what sort of puppy he wanted to be was one of the first things I got Patrick to do – it shapes so much of the personality he plays.”

“How did he choose?” Frank asks. He’s put his hand on Gerard’s knee, and Gerard isn’t sure which of them this gesture is meant to ground. 

Elisa shrugs. “Google, I guess,” she says. “But I took him to a couple of dog shows as well. It’s useful to see how the breeds react in real life as well.” 

Frank nods, and Gerard resigns himself to driving them all to dog shows next weekend. 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he says, and Elisa shakes her head minutely. 

“No reason you should. It’s a steep learning curve when you start something like this – you can’t get everything right. Besides,” she smiles down at the puppies who seem to be having a vigorous debate in whines and growls about who is allowed to sniff whose butt, “there’s the whole gender thing with Mikey, right?” She raises an eyebrow. “That’s bound to complicate things.” 

“Gender thing?” Gerard repeats, his mouth suddenly dry, and she looks at him like she’s not sure what she should say. 

“I’m not sure,” she says, her voice low, like she’s choosing her words carefully. “I mean, I don’t know Mikey when he’s not playing, but I’d bet that his puppy character is a bitch.”

Frank makes a noise that part confusion, part arousal, and Gerard knows _exactly_ how he feels.

“Can that happen?” Gerard asks, and she nods. 

“We’re playing with identity and personality,” she says. “He can choose anything.”

She leans forward and clicks her fingers. 

“Mikey?” The word is more a question than a command, but Mikey looks up and cocks his head to the side. “Come here, girl.”

There’s the space of a heartbeat, then Mikey crawls towards her on his hands and knees. 

“Good girl.” She tousles his hair. “Who’s the prettiest little bitch, eh?” 

The words make Mikey whimper, and he presses his face into the skin of her wrist. He is, Gerard notices, rock hard. 

He guesses from the look on Elisa’s face that she’s noticed as well. She catches Mikey’s collar and tugs it, using it to manhandle him until he’s kneeling upright, completely exposed. 

“A bitch in heat,” she says, and Mikey’s face flames. “You must be so proud of her.”

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice is low and rough with arousal. “We are.”

Elisa smiles and runs a finger over Mikey’s cheekbone, down to his mouth, catches at his lip. 

“She’s going to have the prettiest puppies,” she says, and Mikey’s eyes fall closed and he _whines_. “I’m glad you chose us.” She pets Mikey’s face again, smiling as he licks her fingers. “You’re going to have such a good time, baby. You’re gonna love it.”

She looks up at Gerard and Frank, her eyes dancing. “Trick’s good at this,” she tells them, smiling down at where Patrick is taking advantage of Mikey’s distraction to sniff at his butt. “I had him breeding my friend’s pup last week. Poor boy.” She smiles fondly at the memory. “He hadn’t been fucked before, but Trick had him coming all over the floor by the time he was done.” 

She reaches down and tousles Patrick’s hair, seemingly uncaring that he’s licking at Mikey’s balls. 

“It helped that Meagan is trying to train him. Won’t let him come unless he has something up his ass. He tries to hold out, but the poor thing is so _desperate_ , he just can’t.” She smiles at Frank, raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow in a way that Gerard finds deeply disturbing. “I see her point though – Pete’s so _pretty_ when he cries.”

“Does he…” Gerard takes a breath. “Do you do this often then?”

“Often enough.” She sits up straight again and crosses her legs, perfectly poised. “I have his papers.” She reaches down and pulls a black leather folder from her purse. “You should check them.”

She holds up the folder and looks at them like she’s daring them to reach for it. Gerard is so tempted, but this isn’t his role – isn’t his game and so he leans back in his seat and watches while Frank stands up, walks over to her, and looks down at her while he takes it. 

It doesn’t seem to disconcert her, though. Gerard imagines that there’s not much that _does_. And after all, the kink scene isn’t going to be that different to the rest of the world – people tend to be people no matter what they’re doing – and he’d bet she’s had a lot of experience dealing with men who find her threatening. 

She watches Frank sit down and open up the folder before she shifts her attention back to Gerard. It’s like being pinned, like he’s a butterfly in the hands of a collector, and he has to force himself to stay still, not to squirm under the weight of her regard. 

“So,” she picks up her coffee cup, sips, leaves a perfect red impression of her lips on the china, “what, exactly, is your role in all this?” 

The question catches him by surprise, because it’s not something they’ve discussed – not really.

“Mikey wants me here,” he says, because it’s the truth, and she nods. 

“And that’s _why_ you’re here, but it still doesn’t tell me what you’ll be doing.” 

“Watching.” There’s an edge to Frank’s voice. It’s not hostile – not yet – but it’s getting close. “We discussed this.”

“We did.” She puts her cup back on the coffee table with a precise clink of china. “I was just making polite conversation.” She looks at Gerard, appraising. “I was interested in what you want to get out of this.” 

“I get to see Mikey falling apart.” Gerard’s facing her but his words, if he’s being honest, are for Frank now. “I get to see him and Frank playing. I get to be part of this.”

She smiles, leans forward. “And you want that?” 

He meets her gaze, steady. “Yeah.” He slides his arm around Frank’s shoulders, takes a second to enjoy the feeling of how well they fit together. “Of course I do.”

She nods and leans back, the tension of the moment evaporating. “That’s good. Scenes like this can be heavy if you’re not clear about your intentions.”

She looks down at Mikey and Patrick. They’re involved in some sort of tug of war for the unicorn toy, and while Patrick might be determined, Gerard knows from experience that it’s a brave man who gets between Mikey and his unicorns. 

“These all look good.” Frank hands Elisa the folder back. “I should get Mikey’s for you.” 

“Yes.” She smiles, arch. “I think they’re anxious to get going.” 

Patrick looks up at her, and it’s like he’s been waiting for permission. He surges forward, using his shoulders and sides to pin Mikey up against Frank’s chair. Mikey whimpers and turns his head to nip at Patrick’s white skin, but he’s not _really_ fighting, and Gerard can see how much he wants to give in. 

Frank grins at them as he stands up. “Be right back,” he says and heads for the hall where Gerard knows the envelope with Mikey’s tests results is sitting on the table with the rest of the open mail that’s waiting to be dealt with.

“I like Patrick’s…” Gerard pauses, not sure what the correct word is, but Elisa smiles. 

“He’s been doing this a lot longer than Mikey. We’ve had time to get some kit together.” 

Patrick’s tail is similar to Mikey’s – maybe a bit thicker and more upright, but the difference is negligible. But he doesn’t have Halloween ears or bound paws; he has leather mitts on his hands, knee pads, and some sort of leather mask with ears that manages to be humiliating and weirdly cute at the same time. 

“Still.” He cocks his head to the side. “It looks impressive.” 

“I can email you links.” She smiles, and there’s none of the previous sense of confrontation. “Though I’d recommend waiting on most of it until Mikey’s decided what sort of pup she is.”

“Most of it?”

She grins. “Knee pads. Trust me – best thing you can invest in right now.”

“Here you go.” Frank bounces in, opened, folded envelope in his hand. He puts it on the table next to her cup and sits down next to Gerard. It’s a far cry from Patrick’s smart folder. Elisa raises an eyebrow, but her mouth is twisting, amused, and it makes Gerard smile. 

There’s a series of barks from the pups. Patrick has Mikey pinned again, mouthing at his shoulder and leaving a series of marks that are too red for the nips to be wholly playful. It makes Mikey whimper and he scrambles out from under Patrick and throws himself between Gerard and Frank’s legs, trying to use them as shelter. 

“Hey.” Frank reaches down and rubs the side of Mikey’s face. “You know you can safeword, right?” His voice is quiet, but there’s no way that Elisa and Patrick can’t hear, and Mikey has to know that. 

Mikey nods though, shaky but determined. 

Elisa clicks her fingers. “Trick.” Her voice is stern and Patrick crawls across to her, what Gerard can see of his face perfectly expressing the worry of a puppy who knows he’s in trouble. 

When he gets close enough, she takes the nose of his mask in her hand and uses it to tilt his head back so she can touch his mouth where it’s bare underneath. 

“That’s not playing nice, is it?” she asks, and Patrick whimpers. She looks at him for a second, considering, before bending down and whispering in his ear. Gerard can’t hear what she says, but after a beat Patrick nods and she straightens up slightly and starts to undo the mask. “Parity.” She winks at Gerard. “It’s very important when pups are establishing dominance.” She pulls the mask free and tucks it in her purse before running her fingers through Patrick’s hair, making it more ordered while Patrick looks up at her, guilty and submissive. “We can’t have Trick here thinking he’s better than your girl just because he has a fancy mask, can we?” 

Patrick whines and she purses her lips. “It’s all well and good being sorry now, but let’s see if you can play with Mikey like a good pup.” She spanks him once, hard, as he turns, but though he shoots her a wounded look over his shoulder he crawls to Mikey, picking up the unicorn toy in his mouth as he passes it. 

Mikey’s still pressed between them, warm and watchful, and Patrick stops a careful distance away. He puts the unicorn gently on the floor, then spreads his paws wide so his head is low, submissive, and pushes it toward Mikey with his nose. 

Mikey doesn’t react to begin with – if anything it feels like he’s pressing closer to Gerard – and Patrick’s mouth quirks, easier to read now he doesn’t have the mask on. He lowers his head further and whines, nudging the toy toward Mikey again. It’s only when Mikey finally moves though, when he shifts around so that he can take a tentative sniff at the unicorn, that Patrick smiles and starts wagging his tail.

It’s funny, enough so that Gerard can feel how Mikey relaxes, and when Mikey takes the unicorn in his teeth and shakes it, Patrick yips in excitement and moves back, his posture still low and submissive, but he’s clearly wanting Mikey to play with him. 

When Mikey finally gives in and jerks his head so he can toss the toy towards Patrick, Patrick yips again and makes a show of scrambling after it that far exceeds the effort Mikey took in throwing. He collects it, tosses it in the air and catches it in his teeth, like he’s reenacting a successful hunt, then carries it back to Mikey. 

He gets closer this time, still low, still cautious, but with his tail wagging. Mikey looks at him for a second with wide eyes before he cautiously shakes his hips as well, setting his own tail wagging. He picks up the unicorn again, but instead of tossing it aside, he crawls closer to Patrick, like he’s offering the toy to him, and Patrick takes a leg carefully between his teeth and gently tugs at it. 

It’s the most cautious tug of war Gerard’s ever seen, but it’s cute as hell. They get bolder as they play, and this time it’s Mikey who drops the toy and nips at Patrick’s shoulder. Patrick whines, dropping the toy as well and going very still. He doesn’t drop to the floor or expose his belly like Gerard has seen real dogs do in situations like this, but he turns his head, exposing the soft line of his throat to Mikey. 

He keeps whining as Mikey runs his mouth from Patrick’s shoulder up the line of exposed skin, until his face is buried in Patrick’s hair. Gerard can hear the sniff-snuffling noises from across the room, and the noise that Patrick’s making drops in tone, starts sounding _needy_. 

The position Mikey’s in has left him exposed as well, but he doesn’t move away when Patrick turns his head and bites, gently, at the side of Mikey’s neck. Instead he whines as well, and it’s a beautiful broken little noise that makes Gerard squirm. 

“So pretty.” Elisa’s voice is husky now, and her eyes are dark. “Trick?” She waits until Patrick looks at her before clicking her fingers. “Puppy kisses.” 

His eyes fall closed for a second at the words, but he turns his face and licks cautiously at Mikey’s cheek, and it’s barely past the edge of his hair, but it is still definitely his face.

The next lick is bolder, covers a line from the sharp edge of Mikey’s jaw upwards, skimming the very corner of his mouth, and continuing until Patrick stops and pulls away, just short of Mikey’s eye. 

He stops then, looking slightly uncomfortable for the first time, like he’s not sure what Mikey’s response is going to be, but he visibly relaxes as soon as Mikey takes his first tentative lick at his face. 

For a few minutes they exchange snuffly little kiss-licks, each of them getting bolder as the seconds pass. They’re starting to get aroused, and Gerard knows that each wag of Mikey’s tail will be shifting the plug inside him, adding to his excitement. There’s none of the awkwardness between them now, none of the edge of hostility, and this time when Patrick bites at Mikey’s shoulder, Mikey makes a pleased noise in his throat and lets Patrick push him down onto the floor. 

He rolls, exposing the white expanse of his belly and the hardening red line of his cock, and Patrick makes a happy-sounding growl and moves in to lick Mikey’s face again. 

He’s hard now as well, and Gerard suspects that maybe Elisa has been controlling his orgasms too, because he starts humping Mikey’s hip while he licks at Mikey’s face and nips tiny red marks onto his throat. 

“We should have another play date,” Elisa says, sounding thoughtful. “I know we want them to breed but…”

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice is hoarse. “There’s something about this, right?”

Elisa smiles, nods. “You like watching your girl get all dirty and marked up, don’t you? I mean…” she gestures to where Patrick is panting, starting to thrust in earnest, to where Mikey is shifting under him so he can thrust back. “He’d come like this if I let him, all over your pretty little bitch.”

They take a moment, appreciating the thought, until Frank shakes his head. 

“Another time.” He smiles, wicked. “Our little bitch is in heat tonight; it would be a shame if she didn’t get bred.” 

He shifts against Gerard, hot and eager, and Gerard bites his lip. Frank’s hard – he has to be – and he’s getting off on the thought of Mikey being a girl. 

It’s a game that Gerard and Mikey have played before – not like this, of course, and not in so many words, but still, a favourite of theirs. Mikey looks so beautiful in makeup and lace, covered in silk and pretty things, and Gerard loves putting him together, taking him apart like that until he’s desperate and begging. 

He’s never thought that this was something that Frank would like though, and the thought that maybe it _is_ makes Gerard shift, fully hard now, and pull Frank to him so he can press a kiss to the skin behind his ear. 

Elisa smiles, cool and amused. 

“You need to prep her?” she asks and Frank shakes his head. 

“She’s wet already.” He licks his lips. “I just need to take her tail out.”

“By all means.” She gestures to the pups. “Be my guest.”

It’s a bid for dominance, Gerard can see that, and Frank never takes shit like that lying down. 

“Mikey.” He snaps his fingers. “Heel.” 

Mikey makes a grumbling, whining noise but he shifts under Patrick, wriggling until he can fight his way free, pushing Patrick’s arms off when Patrick tries to catch hold of him and pull him back. 

He’s fully hard now, and Gerard knows him well enough to know that his skin is hypersensitive, that every touch will turn him on more. That doesn’t stop him though; when Mikey gets close enough he leans forward so he can scratch his nails down Mikey’s back and make him whine. 

Frank huffs out a laugh. 

“Shoulda known,” he says. “Can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you, Gee.” 

“Like you don’t want to.” Gerard elbows Frank in the ribs and scratches another set of lines down Mikey’s skin. 

Frank sniggers, and he elbows Gerard right back and pushes him back in the seat before leaning forward again and catching Mikey’s face, cupping his chin with his hand. 

“Hey.” He rubs his thumb over Mikey’s cheekbone, smiling when Mikey presses into the touch. “You ready for this, Mikes?” He waits until Mikey nods, leans even closer. “You ready to be bred, beautiful?” Mikey nods again, and Frank smiles. “Good girl.” 

The words make Mikey’s breath catch, and he whines and turns his face so he can mouth at Frank’s hand. 

“Shush,” Frank says. “I know. I got you, baby.” 

He strokes his hand down Mikey’s spine until he reaches his tail, and he takes hold of it.

“Ready?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for Mikey to reply – he pulls the tail free with one firm twist and Mikey _moans_ , his head dropping forward onto Frank’s knee. 

“Pretty.” Elisa’s voice is rough. “Is she ready for him now?”

Frank sits up straight, rises an eyebrow – an echo of her elegant and aloof pose that is all the more striking on the stocky, tattooed lines of his body. 

“She’s ready,” he says, his voice measured, “when I say she is.” 

He holds her gaze until she looks away with the tiniest, smuggest smile that Gerard’s ever seen and clicks her fingers at Patrick. 

“Trick,” she says, and Patrick crowds close to her, lets her pet his face and hair while he presses his face into her thigh and pants loudly. 

Frank doesn’t notice though – his focus is wholly on Mikey. He’s carding his fingers through Mikey’s hair, and his face is softer, his expression more open than Gerard thinks he’s seen it before. It’s beautiful and it makes something twist in Gerard’s chest. He’s seen how the play affects Mikey, how it breaks him open, but he never realized – not until now – that it affected Frank in the same way. 

They’re locked in the same space, the same moment together, and Gerard can’t even be jealous because Frank is pressed against him and Mikey’s paw is on his foot and he’s part of this now. 

“Yeah,” Frank says at last, running his fingers down Mikey’s face, rubbing over his lips. “Yeah, beautiful.” He pulls his hand away, Mikey’s eyes tracking it as it moves, and holds it up, lets the tension mount. Mikey isn’t breathing by the time Frank clicks his fingers. 

“Present,” Frank says, and Mikey moves back, drops his elbows down and presses his chest to the floor, pushes his ass in the air, his eyes on Frank the whole time. 

“Such a mucky pup,” Elisa’s tone is teasing. “She’s making such a mess of your floor.” She’s right, Gerard sees. Mikey is dripping precome and his ass is glistening with lube. “I’d make her lick it up, but…” she shrugs. “You spoil your bitch.”

“And you wouldn’t?” Frank meets her eyes, unafraid. “She’s ready. Your boy able to perform?” 

“Always.” There’s an edge to her voice. “Trick?” She tousles his hair. “Go for it.”

The noise Patrick makes is indescribable and Gerard knows he’ll be hearing it in his dreams for _weeks_. There’s no finesse to his movements; he turns around and scrambles in an ungraceful jumble of limbs towards Mikey. Mikey hears him coming – Gerard can see how he braces himself, the tension in his shoulders and in his forearms as he tries to grip the floor. 

Patrick is gentler than Gerard expects though. He stops just short of Mikey and dips his head, snuffles and sniffs his way up Mikey’s thigh from a few inches above the back of Mikey’s knee to the curve of his ass. It makes Mikey whine and he pushes back, and Patrick doesn’t hesitate or appear to think twice about it – he pushes his face into the space between Mikey’s thighs and starts to lick into him, and he’s hitting all the spots that make Mikey break open, Gerard can hear that in the noises Mikey is making. 

Elisa watches, indulgent, for a few long seconds before she claps her hands. “Enough,” she says. “Trick…” she waits until he pulls back and she has his full attention. “Mount.” 

Patrick doesn’t need to be told twice; his paws are clumsy in the mitts, but he wraps them over Mikey’s shoulders and pulls himself up so he’s hunched over Mikey’s back and his cock is sliding, hot and red, between the cheeks of Mikey’s ass. 

It makes Mikey whimper and push back. 

Elisa’s lips twist. “You wanna guide him in?” she asks, as if it’s nothing more than a normal conversation, and Frank juts his chin up at her. 

“He’s your pup.” Frank’s voice is cool, daring her. “You do it.”

Mikey moans, a far more human noise than Gerard expected, and Frank sinks down to his knees in front of him. “Baby.” He’s holding Mikey’s hair, stroking his face. “’S’okay. Just let it happen. We got you.” 

He keeps hold of Mikey’s head as Elisa moves off the sofa with feline grace and kneels down by Patrick, taking his cock in her hand.

“Good boy,” she says. “Best boy. Gonna show this little whore what it’s like to be fucked, yeah?”

Patrick makes a high, whining noise in the back of his throat, but she doesn’t respond, just guides him until the head of his cock pushes inside of Mikey. Mikey makes an unintelligible noise, twisting his head so that it’s stifled by the skin of Frank’s wrist. 

Elisa sinks back, leans against the sofa in an ungraceful sprawl of limbs, her eyes fixed on Patrick as he thrusts steady and desperate into Mikey. It makes Mikey buck, or try to buck at least, but Patrick is pinning him with his paws and his hips and Frank is holding his head and there is nowhere for Mikey to go. 

Instead he’s left making helpless, desperate noises as Patrick fucks into him, his paws scrabbling and slipping over Mikey’s shoulders and sides, his hips snapping, frantic, like he thinks that Mikey will be taken away from him if he stops for even a second. 

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice is rough, as desperate sounding as Mikey looks. “Yeah, Mikes. Jesus.” He takes a shuddering breath. “You’re gonna have the fucking prettiest puppies for us, aren’t you, baby?”

Mikey fucking _mewls_ at that, and Gerard sees how his body clenches, how his cock bounces. It spurs Patrick on – he thrusts into Mikey harder and harder, and Gerard can see how Mikey’s shaking under the onslaught. 

“She’s so good at this.” Elisa sounds awed and when Gerard looks over, her hand has drifted between her thighs.

“Yeah,” he says, and it’s Frank who looks around at him. “She’s fucking amazing.” 

There’s very little that Frank can do where he is – he’s not going to let go of Mikey, and Gerard wouldn’t want him to – but he presses his shoulder into Gerard’s leg, and Gerard knows they’re on the same page here. “She’s a beautiful little slut. Needs a cock in her before she can even start to think straight.”

“She’s been looking forward to this?” Elisa sounds politely interested, but Gerard can see her face and can tell that this is part of the game, that Elisa is getting off on Mikey’s squirming humiliation every bit as much as Frank is. 

“She’s been in heat all week.” Frank reaches around and strokes his fingers over Mikey’s rim, the calluses on his fingers catching at the edge of Patrick’s cock and making him moan. 

“Bitches are so pretty like that.” Elisa sounds wistful. “Was she swollen and wet?”

Mikey’s writhes, like he’s trying to squirm away from the words, but Frank is holding him, steady and firm, and he can’t. 

“Yeah.” Frank tightens his hold on Mikey’s collar. “Had to lock her away. She’d have fucked anything that was hard and willing.”

“That’s the problem with unfixed bitches. They’ll get themselves in all sorts of trouble if you let them.” Elisa looks at Mikey. “She’s lucky she has you.”

“We’re all lucky,” Frank says, and Mikey ruts back against Patrick and makes a needy, inhuman noise. 

“God.” Elisa’s voice has dropped a tone now, doesn’t hide how turned on she is any more. “She’s close, isn’t she? You gonna let her come?”

“If she gets permission.” And Gerard knows that Frank doesn’t mean this – that he’s going to let Mikey come – but Mikey pushes up on his arms, his eyes wide and desperate. “She knows that.”

“Pl…” Mikey starts, but Frank shoves his hand over his mouth. 

“No.” His voice is stern, unforgiving. “Puppies don’t use words, Princess. Don’t you fucking show me up now.” 

It’s harsh, and Mikey sobs, just once, but loud and broken, before he presses his face to the floor, whining and whimpering frantically, his eyes fixed on Frank’s face. 

“Frank?” Gerard’s voice is nothing more than a whisper, but he’s not sure that he’s capable of more and Frank and Mikey look at him anyway. “Please. You gotta let him…”

“God.” Frank’s eyes flutter closed for a fraction of a second. “The two of you. I swear.”

“Let him come,” Gerard says, and Mikey _whines_ as Patrick leans forward and bites, hard, at the back of his neck. 

“Yeah.” Frank is breathless and Gerard is tempted – so tempted – to start jacking him off here and now, but they haven’t negotiated this, and he is very aware of Elisa’s eyes on them. “Okay, Mikes. You can come.”

There aren’t words for how grateful Mikey looks as he starts to push back into Patrick’s thrusts, angling himself so that each stroke makes him groan, guttural and raw. He’s not able to jack off, not with his hands bound up like this, and Gerard should maybe offer to help but Mikey is desperate and in the zone and Gerard knows he can do this. 

He drops to the floor next to Frank and reaches out until he can pinch at Mikey nipples. 

“My girl,” he says, and _squeezes_ , and Mikey grunts – inelegant and frantic – and comes, his cock twitching and jumping, spilling over the floor as Patrick keeps thrusting into him. 

“Fuck.” Frank’s voice is rough and Mikey’s voice is breaking with every move Patrick makes. He’s come, but his cock is still dripping, and Gerard _knows_ it’s because he hasn’t come for so long, but it’s fucking hot and Gerard just wants Patrick to come so he can leave and they can have Mikey to themselves again. 

“Yeah.” Elisa’s voice is just as raw and she moves forward, puts her hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “You can come too, baby.” 

It seems to be all Patrick needs. He leans forward and bites hard on the nape of Mikey’s neck and thrusts harder, over and over. 

“Gonna get bred,” Frank says, voice as rough as his hands are gentle on Mikey’s face, and Gerard sees how Mikey’s cock jumps again, dripping more come onto the floor as Mikey presses back into Patrick, moves forward towards Frank, desperate and pinned and _owned_ by them both. 

When Patrick comes, his teeth are sunk into Mikey’s skin and he’s making these high, inhuman noises that make Gerard want to come, and it seems to go on forever. 

At last he finishes though, and he slumps forward over Mikey, pawing helplessly at him with his mitts, his teeth still in Mikey’s neck. It makes Elisa laugh. 

“Look at him,” she says, an edge to her tone. “Thinking he can knot your bitch.” She leans over, flicks Patrick's ear. “He can't though. He's not the alpha here.”

Patrick makes a grumbly noise and tries to move away without letting go of Mikey’s neck. It’s a hopeless proposal and Elisa laughs as she flicks Patrick’s ear again before taking hold of his collar. 

“You wanna stay?” Her voice is taunting and Gerard can see how Patrick tightens his arms around Mikey, trying to hold on to him. “You wanna fuck her again?”

Patrick makes an indistinct sound, muffled by Mikey’s skin and hair, and he shifts his hips forward again. It sounds _obscene_ and Mikey groans, his eyes closed, his mouth open. 

“So very pretty,” Elisa says. “We really have to do this again.”

“Yeah.” Frank traces his fingers down Mikey’s cheek. “We should.”

“Later though.” She kneels up and tugs hard on Patrick’s collar. “We need to leave now.” 

The words are as cool as she’s been all evening, but her eyes are dark and her cheeks are pink, and Gerard has a sudden, visceral image of what she’s going to do to Patrick when they go. 

He doesn’t get a chance to ask, though – even if he’d had the courage to do so. 

She stands up and tugs firmly on the collar again, and Patrick pulls himself free with a groan, and Mikey whines and falls forward onto his elbows, his head resting on the floor between his hands. 

Frank is still stroking Mikey – his shoulders, the tops of his arms, the back of his neck – and he looks open, vulnerable, a million miles from functioning right now, so Gerard pulls himself to his feet and smiles at Elisa.

“I’ll show you out,” he says, and she inclines her head, gracious and regal. 

“That’s very kind.” She stoops to collect her purse, graceful as a dancer, and turns to look for Patrick. “Oh, for goodness sake…” She snaps her fingers. “Heel, Trick.” 

Patrick pulls his head back from between the cheeks of Mikey’s ass. His lips are shiny, sticky with come, Gerard thinks, and he licks them while he meets her amused glare. 

“Heel,” she says again and he sighs and crawls to her, pressing against Mikey’s side as he goes past. 

Mikey mewls something in response, but Gerard can’t parse it. He’s trying to keep functioning, but he’s struggling to tear his eyes from Mikey’s ass, from the swollen pinkness of his hole, from the mess of come that’s dripping from him. 

But Gerard’s mom didn’t raise any slackers, and he’s not sure what she’d say if she ever found out he’d left a guest to see themselves out – even given the circumstances. So he shows Elisa out to the hall, Patrick trailing their steps. 

He gives her a second before he opens the door; she’s digging in her purse for her car keys, and he knows how keys hide if you feel under pressure to find them. Besides, he’s not sure if Patrick will need to get dressed before they go. 

She doesn’t mention it though, and she when she turns towards him with her car keys in one hand, she has a business card in the other, which she holds out to him. 

He takes it, cautious, and she smiles. 

“My email address,” she says. “You should get in touch. You have questions. And you might want to come to a club night and see what it’s like for yourself.”

“Thank you.” The offer is genuine, he can tell that, and there is something curiously comforting about the idea of knowing other people who do this, of being able to look for advice from people other than Frank or the internet. 

She smiles and shakes her head. “Too earnest for your own good,” she tells him and pushes up onto her toes so she can press a kiss to his cheek. “Those two are lucky to have you.” 

She steps back before he can respond, and clips a leash to Patrick’s collar. It’s Gerard’s cue, and he opens the door with a flourish and she stalks past him, collected and visibly amused.

It’s not far to the car, and Patrick crawls after her to it, naked, his cock still filthy from fucking Mikey, and he waits as she opens the trunk and takes a step back.

“In,” she says, and Patrick climbs in, into the cage she has there, and settles down in the nest of blankets as she shuts the door of the cage, then the door of the trunk. 

Gerard waits and watches as she stalks to the front of the car and climbs in, watches as she drives off. Even waves as she clicks her turn signal on and pulls away onto the street, but that’s as far as his patience extends. 

He very nearly slams the door behind him, and walks fast enough back to the living room that it nearly counts as a run. 

And still, Frank has managed to start without him. 

He’s kneeling behind Mikey, his jeans around his knees and his hands holding tight to Mikey’s hips. 

He hasn’t started fucking him yet – even though he has his cock resting between the cheeks of Mikey’s ass and is thrusting, gently, his lip caught between his teeth and his pupils blown.

“Mikes,” he says, his voice rough. “Please... I gotta…”

Mikey doesn't say anything – Gerard's not sure he _can_ right now – but he spreads his thighs, pushes his ass up for Frank to fuck. 

Frank makes a helpless noise, and pulls back enough so he can rub the head of his cock over the rim of Mikey’s ass. It’s slick with Patrick’s come, and Gerard can see how it slides and catches, how it makes Mikey moan and press his arms to the floor like he’s trying to dig himself in, give himself leverage. 

And this is where Gerard would normally walk away, but things have changed – are changing – and there’s something naked and confused in Mikey's eyes. Gerard doesn't want to leave him, so he sits down on the sofa barely an arm’s reach away from Mikey and watches, his eyes wide and his hands gripping his own thighs as he fights to stay still. 

Frank barely spares him a glance though. He’s frowning in concentration as he lines his cock up and slides forward, no teasing, no warm up. Just the steady rough shove of his body, moving until his cock is fully inside Mikey and he finally exhales, rough and loud enough that Gerard can hear him. 

Mikey is gripping compulsively at the floor, and his mouth is open, voicing some silent string of noises that never make it further than his throat. 

Frank can’t see that, though, and he tightens his hold on Mikey’s waist. 

“Baby.” His voice is rough. “God. It’s like you’re fucking gripping at me.” He snaps his hips forward, his eyes closed. “You’re a dirty little bitch. Jesus…” He slows down for a second, savours the feeling. “I should have known about you, you’ve always been such a slutty little whore for me.”

Mikey’s eyes fall closed and he groans, but he reaches out as far as he can, pawing at Gerard’s foot and his calf. If his hand was free, Gerard thinks, he’d be holding onto his ankle. 

“God, Mikes.” Frank’s got his eyes closed and is grinding his hips in a slow circle. “You feel delicious. You want to come again?” He reaches around, takes Mikey’s hard cock in a loose grip. “You want me to rub your clit for you? You think that will help you, beautiful?”

Mikey sobs, his face open and vulnerable and Gerard sinks to the floor and cups it in his hands. 

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, Mikey. Hey, beautiful.”

“Fuck.” Frank’s eyes are tracking their faces, wide and dark, and his hips snap forward, like he can’t help himself. “You think you caught, Mikey? You think you’re gonna have puppies for us?” He groans, fucks into Mikey while he speeds up his hand, and doesn’t seem to care that Mikey is shaking apart for him, making the most frantic high-pitched noises. 

“My best little bitch.” Frank is close now, Gerard can hear it in his voice, see it in the sweat beading on his hairline. “My fucking beautiful girl…”

He twists his hand over the swollen purple head of Mikey’s cock and Mikey comes with a sob – at the sensation or at the words, Gerard can’t tell. It doesn’t take Frank long to follow him, he holds onto Mikey’s waist, so hard that Gerard can see the white marks on Mikey’s skin where Frank’s fingers are pressing. 

“Mikes…” Frank’s voice breaks . He pushes down on Mikey’s back, pressing his chest to the floor and fucks into him, hard and frantic. “My girl.” His voice shakes as he comes and maybe it’s what he says or maybe he’s fucking Mikey too hard but Mikey makes a broken sobbing noise and presses his face into Gerard’s arm. He’s shaking, and Gerard can feel the hot spill of tears that soak through his sleeve. 

It’s hot and horrible and Gerard loves Mikey, so he opens his arms, strokes at the top of Mikey’s arms.“Hey.” 

Mikey pushes forward towards him, and he reaches out, takes hold of Mikey as gently as he can. Mikey melts into the embrace, and Gerard pulls him close, settles him onto his knee, not caring how fucking filthy Mikey is, not caring about the come smearing his body or dripping out of his ass onto Gerard’s leg. 

There’s no point reasoning with him, not when he’s crying like this, so Gerard just holds him, lets him sob his heart out folded in Gerard’s arms and pressed to his chest.

It’s not something that happens often, but it’s something that Gerard recognises from when Mikey’s been pushed too far, and holding him, being there, is the best thing to do. He presses his face into Mikey’s hair and just holds him, breathes in his scent, and just enjoys the feels of Mikey’s skin against his. 

In fact, it’s only when Mikey’s sobs start to ease that Gerard looks up and sees Frank kneeling there, his arms around himself and his face shattered. 

It’s one of those moments where he needs to talk for hours or say nothing at all and looking at Frank the choice is easy to make. He shifts so that Mikey is pressed closer to him, then he opens his arms and gestures to Frank.

He can tell Frank wants it, but Frank’s a stubborn little shit and hangs back, despite the desire writ large on his face. He won’t even look at them, not directly, and Gerard’s fairly sure that the twist of Frank’s mouth means he’s crying. 

It’s not something that he ever thought he’d see, and in so many ways he would welcome it, but Mikey’s vulnerable and needs them, so he keeps his arms open and his voice gentle. 

“Frank?” He waits until Frank looks up and he smiles like he’s trying to soothe an anxious animal. “Come here.” 

For a second he thinks it might work but Frank turns his face away, and his shoulders are shaking and Gerard is sure that this is all so very far from anything he can deal with. 

He has to try though. “Mikey needs you,” he says and Frank looks up again, his face wet with tears, like he wants to argue, like he wants to believe Gerard. “Mikey needs you, and you need to come here.”

He keeps his arms open but it’s only when Mikey turns, his face still streaked with tears and his breath still hitching, and holds _his_ arms out, that Frank capitulates.

It’s an awkward jumble of limbs and wriggling, but at last they make it work, and if Gerard’s pinned to the sofa, he doesn’t really care. He’s holding both his boys, and even if they are shaky and vulnerable, they are warm in his arms, and he’s able to hold them both together. 

Frank has his arms wrapped around Mikey and is threading his fingers through Mikey’s hair, and Mikey is pressing wet kisses indiscriminately on both of their faces and necks. His skin is salty with tears and sweat when Gerard kisses him back, and he moans, presses closer to both of them.

“More.” His voice is hoarse from crying, but he sounds certain, and Gerard trusts him to know what he needs. He rubs his hands down Mikey’s sides, brushing against Frank’s body where they’re touching, and Mikey shivers and pushes into the touch. 

“You wanna go to bed?” Gerard asks, and Mikey bites his lip and nods, hesitant, like there’s something he wants but doesn’t quite dare ask for it. “You want to come to bed with both of us?”

“Yes,” Mikey says, just as Frank says “No” and they all stop and look at each other. 

“You…” Mikey swallows. “You don’t want me, Frank?” 

“No.” Frank sounds horrified. “Of course I fucking want you.” 

“Then why don’t you…”

“I hurt you.” Frank’s voice is tiny, like he’s confessing something shameful, and Mikey looks at him with wide eyes and shakes his head. 

“You didn’t.” He takes a breath. “Don’t be so stupid, Frank. I…”

He trails off, and Gerard knows what it costs him to talk about this, thinks Mikey’s already paid enough for tonight. 

“No one hurt anyone,” he says, and manages to stroke both of them at once. “Not in any way they weren’t looking for, in any case.” Mikey hums, and even Frank relaxes at that, and Gerard pets them both, pulling them as close as he can. “And we should go to bed and talk about things tomorrow, when we’ve slept.”

“Yes.” Mikey sounds adamant, but Frank twists, clearly uncomfortable. 

“But…” he says, and Gerard tightens his hand on Frank’s arm. 

“I love you,” he says, “and I love you too, Mikey. Can that be enough? Just for tonight?”

“It is for me.” Gerard can feel Mikey relaxing again, melting against his chest and letting Frank press closer as well. “I love you both too.” 

“Frank?” And Gerard swears, even to himself, that he’s asking for Mikey – because Mikey needs the reassurance this evening, and Frank swallows, loud enough that Gerard can hear. 

“Yeah.” Frank rests his face on the back of Mikey’s head, pressed a kiss to Gerard’s knuckles. “I…” He turns his head slightly and Gerard can feel the uneven warmth of his breath on his hand. “It’s enough.” 

Gerard breathes a sigh of relief. He still doesn’t know Frank well enough to predict him – no matter how much he wants to. So he stays as still as he can for as long as he can, until he feels Mikey’s first tiny shivers that means he needs to get somewhere warm _now_. 

“Bed.” He tries to sound as calm as he can, even though his heart feels like it’s actually in his throat. “Now. Before Mikey freezes.” 

Mikey makes a sleepy grumbling noise, but Frank responds almost instantaneously, climbing off Gerard and pulling Mikey after him. 

“C’mon,” he says. “You need to get warm, Mikey. We should go to bed.”

Mikey keeps grumbling, but lets Frank pull him towards the stairs. Gerard follows, flicking off lights and consigning the tidying to the morning as he watches them tumble upstairs. He doesn’t try to guide them, so it’s Frank’s decision to push Mikey into Gerard’s room, to shove him onto Gerard’s bed and wrap him in a blanket. 

“Jesus.” His voice is rough and he falls to his knees at Mikey’s feet. “Your _hands_ , Mikey.” 

Mikey holds out his arms. The wrappings around his hands have come loose now, but they’re still there, and Frank unwraps them carefully, his lip caught between his teeth as he rubs Mikey’s palms and fingers as the wrappings come free. 

“You should have said.” His voice is rough, vulnerable. “You can’t let me hurt you, Mikes. You know I don't want that.” 

He sounds on the edge of self-reproach, self-pity even and Mikey’s eyes flash. 

“I was fine,” he says, and it sounds like he’s forcing the words to be calm. “You didn’t bind my hands tightly, my circulation was fine, and…”

“But I forgot them.” Frank presses a kiss to Mikey’s palm, looking anywhere but up at him. “I fucked you after and I forgot your hands.”

“And I’m a fucking adult.” Mikey pulls his hands free and glares at Frank. “If I had needed my hands free then, I would have fucking asked you.” 

“But…” Frank looks up at Mikey, shocked. 

“I am capable of making my own decisions,” Mikey says. “It’s not always up to you, Frank. There were three of us there.”

“But I…” Frank shrugs, searching for the right words. “I set it up. It was up to me to make sure you were both okay.” 

“And we were.” Mikey looks at Gerard. “Weren’t we, Gee?” 

“Yeah.” Gerard goes to sit next to Mikey on the bed, slides one arm around him, puts his other hand on Frank’s shoulder. “We were fine, and we were both there as well, Frankie.” He smiles at the expression of Frank’s face, the twisted mix of self-doubt and hope. “Now, are you going to come to bed? Or do I have to make you?” 

He says it for the smile that lights up Frank’s face, for the delighted twist of Mikey’s lips, and he’s not disappointed. 

“Make me?” Frank’s voice is a dare. “I’d like to see you fucking try.”

And that’s a joke, too. Gerard knows that. But it’s been a long night and the temptation is unbearable so he lets go of Mikey and swings himself to the floor behind Frank, sliding his arms under Frank’s armpits so he can pin Frank’s elbows. 

“Really?” His voice is low and he’s talking straight into Frank’s ear and when Frank shivers it sends a frisson of something hot and predatory spiking through Gerard’s veins. “You wanna see what else I can do, Frankie?” He tightens his hold on Frank, bites the back of his neck, hard enough that it will mark, and Frank _moans_. 

“God.” Mikey’s voice is rough, excited, and his eyes are wide. “Gee. Are you gonna finally do it?” He swallows, shifts back in the bed so he can see them properly. “Are you going to fuck him now?” 

“Dunno.” Gerard bites a series of marks onto the back of Frank’s neck; feels him shiver in his arms. “’S’that what you want, Frankie? You want me to fuck you now?”

The noise Frank makes is wordless and wanting, and Gerard knows he should ignore it. Frank doesn’t bottom – Gerard knows that – which means he’s doing this out of some fucked up sense of obligation or because he thinks he’s hurt Mikey, or something. It’s not because he _wants_ Gerard right now. 

But Gerard can be bloody-minded too, and he will push Frank until Frank says _no_ – that much is set in stone. So he manhandles Frank onto the bed and positions him on all fours over Mikey. 

“Hold onto him,” he says, and Mikey – eyes wide and dark – nods. 

Frank is still and silent as Gerard strips him, but Gerard can feel the tension in every muscle as he forces himself to stay still, to hold the position Gerard has put him in. By the time Gerard has him naked, his cheeks are pink and his eyes are closed and Mikey’s fingers tangled in his hair seem to be the only thing that’s stopping him from hiding his face in the bedding. 

“Keep hold of him,” Gerard says again, and meets Mikey’s eyes as he trails his fingers down Frank’s spine. 

Mikey nods, familiar with the things Gerard likes and knowing what he’s about to do. 

“Can I kiss him while you…” he asks, and Gerard nods, even as Frank makes a tiny terrified noise. 

He thinks that he’s going to be fucked, Gerard realizes, without any sort of preparation or care, and it’s a heartbreaking thought. 

Frank doesn’t ask though, and doesn’t move away as Gerard kneels behind him and cups his hands over the curve of his ass. He shivers and moans when Gerard pulls his cheeks apart, exposes him, and Gerard feels how his muscles tense and bunch under his hands, like Frank is fighting to let himself be seen like this. 

He’ll learn, Gerard thinks, in time. To expect better, to look forward to this, but there’s no point in saying any of that now. Frank learns through doing, so Gerard dips his head and drags the length of his tongue across Frank’s exposed, vulnerable hole. 

It’s clearly not what Frank was expecting, and he jerks like he’s had an electric shock, only Gerard’s hands on his ass, Mikey’s hands in his hair keeping him in place. 

“Shhhhh.” Mikey’s voice is calming, and Gerard can hear him pressing kisses to Frank’s face and neck, but he doesn’t look up. Instead he licks again, firm and long, feeling how Frank shudders under him. 

He normally likes to go slower than this, but he’s normally not fucking someone who is this tense, and he doesn’t think that teasing Frank would work – not yet at least. So he keeps the strokes of his tongue long, firm, letting Frank get used to him, letting Frank’s ass get spit-slick and messy. 

He’s hoping that Frank will relax, but his muscles stay tense and knotted, and he’s almost completely silent, the only noises he makes coming from the rough panting of his breath. 

“It’s okay.” Mikey’s voice is muffled; he probably has his face pressed into Frank’s neck, but Gerard can still hear him, and he feels how Frank relaxes infinitesimally at the words. “You can ask him to stop, Frankie. No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to.” 

“No.” Frank’s voice is rough. “No, Mikes. It’s okay.” He takes a breath that sounds loud in the room. “I _deserve_ it.” 

Mikey hums, noncommittal. “Maybe you do,” he says. “Gee is really good at this.” There’s a pause and the sound of his hands stroking over Frank’s skin. “You know, if he wasn’t doing this to you, I’d be begging him to lick your come out of me.” 

The words are light, almost conversational in tone, but Frank groans, loud and rough, and shifts slightly under Gerard’s hands, not much – but just enough that his thighs are spread a bit further and he’s a fraction more exposed to Gerard’s touch and tongue. 

Gerard isn’t going to turn the invitation down. He changes tack, starts flicking his tongue so that the tip catches on the rim of Frank’s ass, over and over. It makes Frank shiver, makes his breath catch, and for a second Gerard wonders if he’s made a mistake, pushed his luck too far, but then Frank shifts again, pushes back slightly, and when Gerard pulls back to catch his breath and check, he sees that Frank’s started to finally get hard. 

It’s proof that this can work, and he leans back in and swirls his tongue over Frank’s hole, a crude facsimile of a kiss that makes Frank moan. 

“Yeah,” Mikey says. “That’s it. Let him make you feel good.” 

It makes Frank start to pull away, and Gerard would sigh, but he’s following Frank as he moves and his mouth is too busy to do anything else. Maybe Mikey hasn’t realized that Frank’s seeing this as penance – maybe he’s forcing the issue, making Frank acknowledge how much he wants this, because Mikey can be a little shit when the occasion calls for it. Whatever. Gerard isn’t going to let go of the ground he’s gained. He presses forward until Frank is trapped, pressed between Mikey and Gerard; until he’s forced to let Gerard lick at his hole, until he moans and relaxes and Gerard can finally slide his tongue into him.

That wrings the sweetest noises out of Frank, stifled, broken things that Gerard is sure Mikey is kissing out of his mouth. He doesn’t look up though because Frank is melting under him now, turning sweet and open and wanting, and it’s everything Gerard wanted it to be. 

It’s too much to hope that this is the first time anyone has done this to Frank, but maybe it’s the first time anyone has done it quite like this, and Gerard takes each noise of pleasure, each movement of Frank’s body under his mouth as a personal triumph. 

He only pulls away when Frank starts grinding against Mikey, rhythmic movements that have him tensing again, but in a whole different way. 

“Hey.” He strokes his hands down the back of Frank’s thighs, smiles as Frank looks over his shoulder at him, dark eyed and pink cheeked and beautiful. “What do you want, Frankie? You want to come while I’m doing this?”

He’s giving Frank an out, is half expecting him to take him up on it, but Frank shakes his head, bites his lip. 

“Want you to fuck me,” he says defiantly, and the words hit Gerard like a punch to the gut. 

“Yeah,” he says. “God, yeah. Frankie…” 

He pulls him up so he can kiss him, and it only strikes him too late that he should have gone and brushed his teeth or something. But Frank doesn’t seem to care; he goes where Gerard leads, pliant in a way that is unfamiliar and disconcerting and makes Gerard pause. 

“Are you…” He strokes his hands over Frank’s shoulders, unconsciously tracing the patterns of ink. “Are you sure?” 

It makes Frank stop. He bites his lip and for a moment Gerard thinks he’ll say _no_ , but he’s _Frank_ and he juts up his chin and meets Gerard’s eyes as he nods. 

There’s only so many chances Gerard can give him – he’s only good when there’s a given value of good – and he wants to fuck Frank so badly he can’t turn this down. He kisses Frank again, reaching out at the same time, and Mikey – beautiful, fucking perfect Mikey – hands him the lube. 

He’s still kissing Frank as he sinks two of his fingers into him, so he can swallow the sweet, broken noise Frank makes, can twist his fingers and feel how Frank moans. 

It doesn’t take much until Frank is ready, until he’s slick and open and Gerard is biting each breath from his mouth. 

“Can I…?” Asking isn’t a conscious choice, but Gerard has always had problems with anything that isn’t enthusiastic consent, and his relationship with Mikey has just cemented those beliefs in place, so he’s absurdly relieved when Frank breathes out the word “yes” against his lips. 

“Okay.” Gerard flops back on the bed, looks up at Frank’s wide, confused eyes. “C’mon then.” 

“But…” Frank bites his lip, and Gerard _knows_ what he wants to say – that this isn’t how it’s supposed to go, that Gerard is supposed to be fucking him from behind, using him like some little slut, using him how he thinks he used Mikey. 

But Gerard isn’t here for that. Frank thinks this is atonement – but it isn’t, and Gerard has _plans_.

“’S’gonna be easier if you do what he says.” Mikey’s settled down on the far edge of the bed in a loose sprawl of limbs, but he’s watching them with hot, dark eyes. “He’ll get what he wants, Frankie.” He bites his lip, looks up at Frank from under his lashes. “And you’re gonna love it.” 

The words surprise a snort of laughter from Frank, inelegant and profoundly _him_ and Gerard has reached out and slapped his thigh _hard_ before he’s even thought about it. 

“You think you won’t?” He grabs hold of Frank, flips him so he’s lying on top, their cocks pressed together. “Gonna have you begging for this.” 

“You think?” The words sound like a dare, and Gerard smiles because he wants Frank like this, not some washed out pencil drawing of the man he’s falling in love with. “Gonna take more than pretty words to get me going, Gee.” 

“Yeah?” Gerard holds him close and thrusts his hips, letting their cocks slide together, watches how Frank’s eyes fall closed at the sensation. “There’s no pleasing you, is there?” He grinds again, and Frank laughs, breathless. 

“Gonna try?” Frank says, and the smile in his voice warms the dark places inside Gerard. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Sit on my cock. Let me show you.” 

Frank’s breath catches, but his legs fall apart and he moves so he’s straddling Gerard’s thighs. 

“I…” His eyes are closed, his eyelashes fanning the pink of his cheeks, and Gerard slides his hands down so he’s holding his waist. “I don’t…”

“I know.” It’s breaking character, breaking the flow of the game, but this is _Frank_ , Gerard’s friend, the man he’s falling in love with, and some things are more important than consistency. “You don't have to now.”

Frank’s eyes snap open at the words and he drops to his hands and knees, crawling up Gerard’s body until Gerard’s cock is pressed between the cheeks of his ass. 

“You saying I can’t do this?” he asks, and slides back, letting the lube-slick mess of his hole rub over the length of Gerard’s cock. “You saying you don’t want this?” 

“Saying that you don’t have to do anything that scares you,” Gerard says, and Frank scowls at him, raises himself up. 

“Gonna give me a hand here?” he asks, and if Gerard didn’t know him so well, all he’d hear is the arrogant facade. “Or do I have to do it all myself?” 

Gerard bites his lip, torn, but in the end he doesn’t have to make a choice. Mikey scrambles over the bed, grabs the lube, slicks his hand up. 

“Let me,” he says and takes hold of Gerard’s cock, strokes it, firm and slick and just like Gerard likes it, until Gerard is moaning. 

“Yeah.” Frank can’t possibly see what Mikey’s doing – can probably only feel his hand moving between his thighs, but he stays bent over Gerard, watching his face, his expression hungry. 

He’s beautiful, and Gerard doesn’t have a choice. He reaches up and catches Frank’s face in his hands and kisses him, biting at his lips until Frank is moaning into his mouth. 

It means he gets to swallow the sweetest noise as Mikey holds his cock steady with one hand and uses the other to guide Frank onto him. And Frank is _tight_ – despite the fingering and the lube, despite the rimming. It means he’s nervous, Gerard knows, but when he reaches out to stroke down the line of Frank’s back, to ground him or calm him or something, he finds that Mikey’s beaten him to it, is petting Frank like he’s a frightened animal. 

They stay like this for a few long moments, the only movement their hands on Frank’s skin. It’s torture for Gerard, the tip of his cock buried in Frank’s tight, hot ass, and he has to force his hips to be still, force himself not to thrust up before Frank is ready. 

They should wait longer than they do, but Frank bites his lip and starts sinking down, a look of pained concentration on his face. It’s probably too fast, and Frank needs to breathe into it, to relax, but when Gerard takes a breath to say so the look Frank gives him silences the words before they’re formed and he flops back on the bed, his hands resting lightly on Frank’s hips, and just enjoys the hot, tight squeeze of Frank around him. 

It still takes time. Frank’s grunting with effort, his eyes closed, and he’s biting his lip so hard that Gerard thinks he might be drawing blood, but he’s determined to do it, and all Gerard can do to help is to stroke Frank’s hips, the small of his back and mutter encouraging noises. 

Frank slumps forward when he finally – _finally_ – bottoms out, and the muscles of his legs are trembling with effort. 

“Hey.” Gerard wraps his arms around him, pulls him close, even as Frank groans as the movement makes Gerard’s cock shift in him. “You’re doing so well, Frankie.”

Frank shakes his head and makes a wordless noise of denial, but he doesn’t pull himself away – in fact he presses closer so that they’re resting chest to chest, and his face is hidden in Gerard’s neck. He’s not hard any more. He’s shaking as Gerard holds him, and Gerard’s neck is suspiciously damp, but he presses himself down on Gerard, taking him in as far as he can all the same.

“Baby.” It takes effort and persistence, but eventually he manages to turn Frank’s head enough so that he can kiss him. And Frank is beautifully responsive – sighing into the first kiss and moaning when Gerard starts to suck on his lower lip. 

Gerard keeps petting him – his shoulders, the tops of his arms, down his sides and thighs – wherever he can reach and Frank starts to respond despite himself, shifting on Gerard in tiny increments, groaning as Gerard’s cock moves inside him. 

His cock is resting against Gerard’s stomach and is starting to get hard again now that he has started to relax, and Gerard risks thrusting up – only slightly and aiming his hips so that he tries to catch Frank’s prostate. It makes Frank’s breath catch, and he breaks the kiss as he gasps, his eyes shut and his face pink. It’s with pleasure this time though, Gerard thinks, and he pushes himself up on his elbows so that he can bite at Frank’s jaw. 

Frank groans again, pushing closer so that Gerard can bite harder, bite hard enough that he can leave a mark. He moves his hips in a cautious circle, and he’s sitting up enough now that Gerard can see his cock bounce.

“You’re enjoying that?” he asks, his voice rough, and Frank nods, his eyes screwed closed and his hands fisted in the sheets either side of Gerard’s head. 

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice is rougher than his, and quieter, like whispering makes all this deniable. “God, Gee. I can’t remember it feeling like this before. You’re so…”

He falls forward, kisses Gerard, grinds his hips again, bolder this time. 

“So?” Gerard wraps his arms around Frank, bites down on the side of his neck. 

“So big,” Frank says, breathy. “But…” He kisses Gerard again. “You’re not hurting me.” 

The words are tiny in Gerard’s ear, and they make him tighten his hands on Frank’s waist, overwhelmed by a fierce feeling of protectiveness that Frank wouldn’t want even if Gerard could find the words to say it. He wants to punch everyone who’s ever fucked Frank, though, everyone but…

“Mikey?” He can’t see Mikey, not with his face buried in Frank’s hair, but he feels the bed shift as Mikey comes close, feels Mikey cup his hand where it’s curled around Frank’s ribs. “Can you lend me a hand here?”

“What do you want?” Mikey settles himself astride Gerard’s thighs behind Frank, wraps his arms around Frank and hooks his head over his shoulder. “You want me to help you make him feel good?” 

“Yeah.” Gerard rubs tiny circles on Frank’s skin with his fingertips, reminding him that they’re there with him – they’re not just talking over him. “Want to feel him come on me, Mikes. Want to feel him shake apart.”

Mikey hums and kisses the side of Frank’s face, lets his lips linger at the hinge of his jaw, next to his ear. 

“You gonna let me do that?” Mikey asks, whispering the words into Frank’s skin. “You gonna let me help you?” 

“Mikey.” Frank sounds desperate and he turns his head to bite a kiss onto Mikey’s face. “I… I can’t…”

He can’t ask, Gerard realizes, but Mikey just smiles, small and secret. 

“I know,” he says, and reaches around Frank, pulls him slightly upright and drags his nails in lines up from the curling fuzz of Frank’s pubic hair up to his pecs. 

He leaves a trail of red lines in his wake, visible in patches between Frank’s ink, and Frank shivers at the touch, moans when Mikey’s nails catch on his nipples. 

“You’re doing so good,” Mikey says, and bites down on Frank’s neck, leaves a perfect mark of his teeth next to the mark that Gerard’s already left. “You just need to let go, Frankie.” 

Frank shakes his head, but his breath catches when Mikey pinches at his nipples again, and when Mikey drops his hand down and wraps it around his cock, he drops his head back against Mikey’s shoulder and _groans_ , and Gerard can feel how every part of him clenches with pleasure. 

Mikey starts to set his pace, guiding Frank’s hips with his own, with the movement of his hand on his cock and Frank _lets_ him. All Gerard can do is to grip at the soft spaces around Frank’s waist and to angle his hips as best he can. 

But Mikey knows what he’s doing, knows how to bend Frank so that when he circles his hips Gerard’s cock drags over his prostate and makes Frank groan. 

“He’s good isn’t he?” Mikey asks, and Gerard doesn’t know which of them he’s asking, but Frank stammers out “ _Yes_ ” before he can say anything, and Gerard knows he’s telling the truth – can see it in the flush that’s spilling down over his collarbones and onto the top of his chest, can feel it in how Frank’s ass is gripping him, rhythmically, in time with his movements. 

“Hey.” Gerard suddenly feels desperate, wants Frank’s attention back on him, and he reaches up to paw at Frank’s stomach and chest. “Frankie.”

“Yeah.” Frank’s eyes are dark with lust when he looks down at Gerard, and when Mikey lets go of him he slumps forward and pants into Gerard mouth as he kisses him, messy and whole-hearted. 

He can still feel Mikey’s hand moving between them, but he doesn’t mind it – not like this. He starts thrusting, gentler than he wants to, maybe, but still, more than he has dared so far. Frank doesn’t tense up this time; instead he starts pushing back into the movements, getting bolder as his kisses get sloppier, as the grip of his fingers on Gerard’s shoulders get tighter. 

“Is he gonna come, Mikes?” The words come out raw, like he’s been screaming, and Frank moans into the skin of his cheek, into the corner of Gerard’s mouth. “You gonna come for me, beautiful?” 

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice is as rough as his, just as desperate. “God, Gee. You feel so…” He shakes his head and kisses Gerard again, biting into his mouth and starting to move, to fuck himself on Gerard’s cock in earnest. 

It’s hot and tight and frantic, and it’s all Gerard can do to hold on, desperately holding back his own orgasm until he feels Frank clench hot-tight around him, feels the splash of his come smear across his stomach. 

It feels good – too good – and he growls as he flips Frank over, so that Frank lands with a choked off laugh and Gerard between his thighs.

“Let me,” he says, and Frank nods, shaky, as Gerard starts thrusting, biting at Frank’s jaw. He could fuck him forever like this, open and shivering and over-stimulated, but it’s too good, and he comes too soon, spilling into Frank with a groan, with Frank’s arms around him, and Mikey’s hand on the small of his back. 

He collapses on Frank after and buries his face in his neck and just breathes him in. Frank drags his fingers up his sides, and it’s sweet and gentle and it tickles and Gerard squirms, his cock still in Frank. 

“Really?” Frank sounds delighted and repeats the movement, and Gerard giggles, squirms again and this time he pulls out of Frank, slick and wet and disgusting, and Frank surges forward, pins him to the bed and starts to tickle him in earnest, while Mikey watches them with wide, delighted eyes and laughs. 

“‘m gonna fuck you next time,” Frank tells him when they pause, both breathless and smiling. “Gonna fuck you till you scream and call me daddy.” 

“Fine words.” Gerard turns his head, kisses Frank’s wrist where it’s braced next to his head. “You’ll be begging me for more, Frankie. You know it.”

Mikey sniggers next to them. “Or you’ll just both flail around until I push you together again,” he says, dry and amused as only he can be. “Now…” He wriggles around, making himself comfortable and stealing an unfair proportion of the covers. “You should both hug me so I can sleep.” 

Frank smirks, and presses a last kiss to the tip of Gerard’s nose, then climbs over Mikey still filthy and dripping. Gerard feels his cock twitch at the sight, and if he was ten years younger – five even – he would be nearly ready to go again, but he’s not, and Mikey is pressed to his side, his eyes drifting closed already. 

“I should get a cloth,” he says, even though it’s started to feel cold in the room, and he’s cosy-warm under the covers, but Mikey shakes his head.

“Tomorrow.” He sounds sleep-vague, and he wraps an arm around Gerard, pinning him to the bed.

“Yeah.” Frank’s eyes glint and he reaches over Mikey to put his hand on Gerard’s arm as well. “Tomorrow.” 

He says the word like a promise, and Gerard smiles, reaches out and turns the light off, lets himself drift to sleep, warm and safe and loved. 

He’s not sure he moves all night, and by the time he wakes up on Saturday morning he is drunk with sleep, warm and replete, and still heavy eyed. 

Frank is nestled up to him, his face pressed to Gerard’s shoulder, and he’s drooling slightly. It should be unattractive, but it makes Gerard smile and he reaches up to brush a curl of Frank’s hair back off his face, tucking it gently behind his ear. 

It’s only a soft touch, but Frank grumbles, sleepy and incoherent, and his eyes flutter open. 

“Mghfkhd?” he says. “Wasslip?” 

“Morning.” Gerard pulls Frank closer, kisses his hair, smells the scent of his skin through the faded smell of shampoo and sex. 

Frank groans, and hides in Gerard’s arms for a few long seconds before pulling away. 

“Where’s Mikey?” he asks, his voice still rough with sleep, and Gerard smiles. 

“Making coffee,” he says, because he knows Mikey and even if he didn’t, he can hear the sound of Mikey in the kitchen – a characteristic sound that Gerard loves, even while it exasperates him, all dropped spoons and bitten off curses. It promises coffee, eventually at least. It also promises a wait, because Mikey is better at intentions than the practical arts of coffee making. 

Frank grunts at that and sinks back into Gerard’s arms. 

“Should go and check he’s okay.”

Gerard hums and scratches his stomach. There’s come, dried disgustingly on his skin, and it’s flaking and itchy and he should have a shower, but he can’t be bothered to move. 

“He won’t thank you,” he says. “You know he likes to be left alone in the kitchen.”

“Right up until he sticks a fork into the toaster,” Frank says, and Gerard concedes the point. 

“He knows better than to do that,” he says. “Again, at least.” He hopes he sounds more certain than he feels, but Frank sniggers and he doesn’t think he’s managed it. “Anyway,” he kisses Frank’s head again. “You okay?”

Frank’s mouth twists and he shrugs. “Dunno,” he says, and the word is tight, careful, like he’s hiding something. 

It makes Gerard’s stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“Why?” he asks, trying to keep the note of panic that he feels out of his voice. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

“What?” Frank blinks up at him, clearly confused, and shakes his head. “No. No, Gee. I was just…” He bites his lip, shrugs again. “Just worried about Mikey, I guess.” 

“He’s fine,” Gerard says. “He told you, Frank. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Easy for you to say.” Frank sounds bitter, and Gerard’s heart goes out to him. 

“Tell me,” he says. “What do you think you did wrong?”

“I hurt him.” Frank sounds small and miserable. “I should never have fucked him, Gee. I didn’t even notice how out of it he was.”

“You didn’t hurt him,” Gerard says, careful with his words, careful to keep his tone gentle. “He was overwhelmed. There’s a difference.” 

“I should still have noticed.”

Gerard shrugs. “We all make mistakes sometimes,” he says and rubs Frank’s back, the stiff, hard muscles of it, urging him to relax. “I didn’t mean to hurt him either, but I did. You remember that, right?” 

“Yeah.” The word is grudging. “But I shouldn’t make mistakes.” 

He sounds so sure, it takes Gerard aback. “Why?” he asks. “What makes you so different?”

Frank scowls and he tries to move away, but Gerard holds him tight and in the end Frank subsides, sighs. “He loves you,” he says. “He’s going to forgive you anything.”

“What?” Gerard shifts a tiny bit so he can squint down at Frank. “And you think he doesn’t love you like that?”

Frank shrugs, and Gerard feels something twist in his chest. 

“He does,” Gerard tells him, making a mental note to talk to Mikey about this later. “Trust me, Frankie. He really does.” 

“Still shouldn’t have done it,” Frank says, small and mutinous. 

“It doesn’t matter what you’ve done,” Gerard says, breathing in the smell of him. “What matters is what you’re going to do now.” 

Frank makes a scoffing noise. “You mean the bit where I start a relationship with his brother?” he asks.

Gerard shrugs. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says, “but we’ve been in a relationship for a while.”

“Fine,” Frank says, an edge to his voice. “Where I start fucking his brother then.”

“He knows about that,” Gerard says, feeling his cock twitch at the words. “He wants that.” He presses closer to Frank. “So… You wanna fuck me then?”

He’s put on his best coy voice, and is gratified when Frank laughs, low and genuine. 

“Yeah,” he says, and shifts against Gerard so he can feel the hard line of his cock. “I guess I do.” 

The warmth of his body, the pressure of Frank’s cock against him is delightful and Gerard has to do everything he can to keep himself from purring. It’s a close call though when Frank trails his fingers down his spine, and he doesn’t even try to stop himself pressing closer. 

“How do you want me?” He lets his lips brush against the scorpion tattoo on Frank’s neck as he talks. “On all fours? With my ass in the air for you?” He nips Frank’s earlobe and smiles at the noise he makes. “You want me riding you? Fucking myself onto your cock while you lie back and watch?” He bites his way along Frank’s jaw, briefly sucks on his lower lip. “Or you want me on my back? Want me to spread my legs for you so you can look into my eyes and kiss me while you fuck me?” He smiles, steals a kiss and a breath from Frank at the same time. “Well? What do you want, Frankie?” 

Frank heaves in a shuddering breath and for a moment Gerard thinks he’s getting somewhere, but then Frank’s pushing against him, flipping him over and pinning him to the bed, his smile wide, delighted, feral. 

“What makes you think you get any say in this?” he asks, his voice all rough edges and wild joy. “What makes you think you get to do anything more than take what you’re given and beg for more?” 

It feels like it’s been forever since Gerard’s been pinned like this, been longer since he’s done it willingly, but here and now he can’t think of anything he wants more. Still… he’s not going down without a fight – doesn't really think Frank would want him to. 

He squirms under Frank, testing his hold, and when it doesn’t give an inch, he feels an anxiety he didn’t even know he had relax in his chest. 

“Yeah?” he asks, breathless and grinds upwards, deliberate and precise. “You think you can do that, Frankie?” He grinds again and grins as Frank breathes, rough and broken. “Think you can really make me beg?” 

Frank’s eyes blink shut and Gerard stares, transfixed, at the fan of his lashes against the pink of his cheeks. Frank could make him beg, he knows this, bone deep and instinctive, and he’s not sure if the thought scares him or turns him on. 

And then Frank is looking at him, piercing green eyes that strip away all the lies and small vanities that Gerard would hide himself behind, and he doesn’t even say anything, just dips his head to bite at Gerard’s lips until they feel bruised and Gerard can’t catch his breath. 

Gerard can’t stop himself moaning, the noise muffled as Frank steals each sound from his mouth almost before it’s formed, and this time when his hips buck up, it’s unconscious, instinctive, driven by need rather than design. 

“Yeah.” Gerard should take some comfort from the fact that Frank sounds as wrecked as he feels, but he’s not sure he wants comfort here. “I thought so.” 

He leans forward again, licks into Gerard’s mouth, filthy and demanding, and Gerard lets him, sighs into it, the feeling of Frank’s mouth on his, Frank’s fingers gripping his wrists until they bruise. 

Maybe he’d do this anyway – give Frank what he so clearly needs – but it’s not just that, not any more at least. Whatever ends up happening between him and Frank, he realizes, is always going to be an exchange, a dynamic dance between them, and the only way it’s going to work, the only way he’s going to survive this, is if he gives himself over to it wholly, embraces each part of it as it happens. 

“Not begging yet,” he says though, holding on until the last possible moment and groans as Frank thrusts against him, at the slide of their hard cocks against each other. “Got a way to go still. I’m nowhere _near_ calling you daddy yet.” 

When Frank laughs, it’s something Gerard feels more than hears. A warm gust of breath against his temple, cheek, hair. 

“Getting there though,” Frank tells him, and it would be churlish to disagree, not when Frank so clearly wants this – not when he’s so clearly right, and Gerard bites down on his neck, stifling a moan, trying to hide it in the noise Frank himself makes even though he knows it’s a fool’s errand. 

He knows Frank’s heard, knows Frank can feel how desperate he is in every press of his body, in the sheen of sweat that drenches him, but still Frank fights to dominate him, to pin him down and make him take what he’s given. And the thing is, he’s so very close to giving in, so close to letting Frank just take what he wants, but it would be dishonest, would be a pretty lie that would color the whole of their relationship. So he braces himself against the bed, forces himself up against Frank, and this time it’s enough to shove Frank off, to give a few clear inches of space between them, and Frank’s face lights up, feral. Joyful. 

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice filled with barely suppressed glee. “Gonna be like that?” He cocks his head to the side, looks at Gerard, steady and unflinching, and seems to see something in his face that he’s looking for because he nods, apparently satisfied. “That works.” And then he bites his lip, almost hesitant for a second, and reaches out to touch Gerard’s cheek, softer than Gerard expects. “You want to stop, you just tell me, yeah?” 

He waits for just long enough to see Gerard nod before he’s surging forward again, flipping Gerard again, and pinning him face down on the bed, his arm pinned behind him, and Frank’s teeth sunk into the back of his neck. 

“Gonna make you take it.” The words are muffled against Gerard’s skin, but he still hears them, and it makes him shiver, thrust against the mattress until Frank pushes his knee between Gerard’s legs and forces them apart, uses his weight to pin Gerard’s pelvis in place. “You want that, don’t you, Gee?” 

He nips again at Gerard’s neck and laughs at the gasp it elicits before licking and biting his way down the line of Gerard’s spine, his fingers digging into Gerard’s sides, holding him in place, stopping him squirming away. 

“Ready?” he asks as he reaches the dip of Gerard’s spine, and Gerard sucks in a shuddering breath as Frank pushes the cheeks of his ass apart and licks, firm and slick, over Gerard’s hole. 

Gerard can’t help the noise he makes this time, even though he tries to stifle it in the sheets and pillows under his hands but Frank pulls away.

“No,” he says, and slaps Gerard, hard, on the soft skin at the top of his thigh. “Wanna hear you, Gee.” He leans close, bites Gerard’s ass just above where he hit, and sighs. Gerard can feel his breath against his skin. “You gonna let me?”

“Yeah.” Gerard’s voice is little more than a croak, and he’s not sure that Frank even hears him, but this time when Frank starts tracing his tongue over Gerard’s hole, when he starts kissing it – filthy and profane – Gerard cries out, wanton and probably too loud, and Frank rewards him by licking deeper, harder. 

It’s good motivation, makes Gerard want to let go more, to voice all the things he’s feeling, even if he can only manage sighs and broken, desperate, needy noises. Frank doesn’t seem to care, though. He eats Gerard out like he was born to do it, doesn’t try to keep things neat, clean. Gerard can feel how slick Frank’s making him, can feel Frank’s saliva dripping down his crack, over his balls, and he fists his hands in the sheets and gasps out his approval. 

By the time Frank pulls away, Gerard is wetter than he’s ever felt before and his cock is a hard line, pinned between his stomach and the mattress. 

“Please,” he says, not even sure what he’s asking for. “Please, Frankie.”

“Yeah.” Frank scratches his nails down Gerard’s ribs, over his hips. “Yeah. Tell me what you want, Gee.” 

“You.” The word comes out small, desperate, and Gerard almost winces at it. “Just…” He takes a deep breath. “Fuck me?” 

He hears the noise Frank makes in response, feels how his fingers tighten on his hips, makes him wonder if he’ll be wearing a belt of bruises for the next few days. 

“Okay,” Frank says, and he sounds almost shocked even though he had to know how much Gerard wanted him. “I’ll…” He breaks off, strokes his hands over Gerard’s ass. “I know we didn’t last night, but d’you want me to wear a rubber?” 

“Fuck.” Suddenly Gerard can’t bear the position he’s in, can’t stand not being able to _see_ Frank. He swings around under Frank, smiles when Frank lets him and reaches up to touch Frank’s jaw. 

Frank is watching him, with dark, fathomless eyes, and Gerard recognises the twist of his mouth, how it means he’s trying to stop his feelings showing on his face. 

“Hey,” he says, and pulls, gentle enough that Frank doesn’t have to lean down – not if he doesn’t want to. He does though. He leans down and kisses Gerard, lets Gerard lick the taste of himself from his mouth. 

“No condoms,” Gerard says at last when they pull apart. “Just want to feel you, Frank.” 

Frank looks at him for a second before he turns his face and kisses Gerard’s wrist. 

“Okay,” he says, and he sounds so open, so vulnerable that Gerard _has_ to give him something in return. 

“Fuck me,” he says. “Please. Fuck me, daddy.”

Frank’s eyes fall shut, overwhelmed, and he groans. 

“Yeah,” he says, fumbling with his cock, lining himself up. “Okay.”

He bites his lip as he pushes inside of Gerard, breathing through his nose, like he’s fighting for control of himself. It makes Gerard want to break him, and he pushes up, writhing against Frank, clenching around him. 

The noise Frank makes is _perfect_ , and Gerard does it again, and again until Frank presses down on his shoulders and growls. 

“Stay still,” he says, his voice all edges and danger, and Gerard smiles up at him. 

“Or what?” he asks, and clenches again, just to hear Frank moan. “You gonna show me who’s boss? You gonna _teach_ me, daddy?” 

“Yeah.” Frank grabs hold of Gerard’s wrists and pins them to the bed above Gerard’s head. “An’ if you want to come, you’d better learn your lesson.” 

“Really?” Gerard asks, breathless. “You think you can stop me?”

It makes Frank laugh, even as he thrusts forward and steals Gerard’s breath with the movement. 

“Yeah,” he says, all his confidence and cocksure attitude suddenly restored to him. “Cuz all I have to do is ask.” He grinds his hips. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Gerard wants to argue, wants to fight back, but here and now it would be a lie. 

“Yeah,” he says, twisting under Frank’s hands and cock. “Yeah, Frankie. Whatever you want.” He gasps as Frank kisses him. “Whatever you need.” 

Frank makes a feral noise and presses Gerard into the bed with his body and hands. It’s an invitation, because there’s no way that Frank wants him to be meek, so Gerard lets himself move under Frank until Frank’s forced to use everything he has to keep Gerard pinned down. 

It’s not something Gerard gets to do often – his dynamic with Mikey is very different and there hasn’t been anyone else, not for years. He’d forgotten how much he loved this, the edge of teeth biting a shade too hard, fingers gripping tightly enough that they’ll mark… It’s like the best sort of grappling match, and the pressure of Frank’s body, sweat slick against him is nearly too much. 

Gerard groans, bites marks onto Frank’s shoulders, chest, whatever he can reach. 

“Hold on,” Frank says, but it’s a plea, not an order, and Gerard bites his lips, does everything he can to hold off from coming. 

It’s only when he catches Frank pulling back, watching him, that he realizes what he’s missing.

“Please,” he says and lets the desperation he’s feeling come through in his voice in his eyes as he looks up at Frank. “Please, Frankie.”

“What?” Frank’s biting his lips, looking as close to flying apart as Gerard feels himself. “What do you need?”

“Let me come,” he begs. “I want to come on your cock. Fuck…” He bucks up, feels his cock brush against Frank’s abs, feels the slide of pre-come and sweat, and he whines. “Please, Frankie, please…”

“Yeah.” Frank’s hips stutter then he thrusts again. “Come for me.”

Gerard moans in relief and reaches down. He’s not going to need much, just a stroke or two and… Frank slaps his hand away, a sharp noise that shocks Gerard more than it hurts him. Frank grins, feral, and pins Gerard’s wrists above his head. 

It’s not a tight grip – Gerard could break it if he wanted to, but there’s something in Frank’s eyes that makes him accept it. Instead he strains just enough to test Frank’s grip but doesn’t break it. 

“Thought you said I could come,” he says and Frank leans forward to kiss him. 

“Yeah,” he says, breathless. “You can. But I want you to work for it.” He looks at Gerard, his eyes dark with lust. “Want to _feel_ you, Gee.” 

It makes Gerard’s breath catch, makes him reckless, and he gives in – lets Frank see that – and grinds up against him, frantic, not trying to stop himself. Frank watches every expression that crosses his face, biting his lips, his eyes tracking _everything_. 

“Can you do this?” he asks, sounds as desperate as Gerard feels. “Because…”

He’s giving Gerard an out, and now that he’s given it, it’s the last thing that Gerard wants. 

“I can do this.” His voice sounds fierce, even to his own ears, and it’s a strain but he’s so close, and Frank is filling him so good. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t easy, nothing Gerard want ever is, and god but he wants this. 

In the end, it’s when Frank shifts his angle, drives up against Gerard’s prostate over and over, presses himself close enough that Gerard’s cock is caught sliding between their bodies, that Gerard comes, slick and hot between them. 

He can’t help how he convulses in Frank’s arms, the way his body squeezes his cock, the noises he makes and the nonsense words he calls out. Frank groans, deep and loud, and drives into him, wringing wretched, broken noises from Gerard’s lips, until he’s shuddering, coming in Gerard, hot and perfect. 

“Jesus.” He collapses, his lips on the side of Gerard’s neck, his hair, sweat-damp against Gerard’s cheek. “That was…”

“Fucking amazing.”

Gerard blinks his eyes open and flails feebly until he can look around. Mikey’s in the doorway, a mug of coffee in his hands, his lips quirked up in satisfaction. 

“Hey.” Frank rolls off Gerard, pulls out of him as he moves and the noise is obscene enough to make Gerard’s cock twitch heroically. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.” Mikey takes another sip, hiding his smile at Gerard’s betrayed face. “You put on a hell of a show.” 

“Shoulda joined us,” Frank says, post-orgasm mellow now, but Mikey shakes his head. 

“You two need space,” he says. “Gotta work out what you are for yourselves.”

He sounds unaffected, but he always does, and it makes Gerard frown. 

“You’re a part of us,” he says, sitting up. “You know that, right?”

“Course I do.” Mikey picks up another two mugs that he’d obviously left on the chest of drawers when he’d seen what they were doing. “But you’re a separate thing as well, you know?” He passes them their mugs and perches on the edge of the bed to sip his own. “Just like me and Frank are, or me and you.”

“Oh.” Gerard drinks his own coffee, thinks about it. “And you’d say if you felt left out?”

Mikey sighs, bends over to kiss his forehead. 

“You’ve gotta trust me,” he says, and Gerard wonders when he became this self-contained, this emotionally intelligent, this _adult_. 

“I do.” He tightens his fingers on Mikey’s waist, very aware of Frank next to him, his lip between his teeth, watching everything and ready to step in if he feels he needs to. “But I love you as well. You’ve gotta let me worry about you sometimes.” 

“Maybe.” Mikey’s lips quirk slightly. “Provided you let me make my own decisions as well.”

Gerard shrugs, painfully aware of the times when he’s felt the need to step in to protect Mikey. But Mikey’s right. He’s not needed like that now – not for months, barely at all since Frank showed up, or not in the same way at least. 

“Sorry,” he says, smaller than he means it, shamefaced even as Mikey kisses him again, as Frank presses closer and slides his arm around Gerard’s waist. 

“’s not a problem.” Mikey climbs onto the bed next to him, wriggles until there’s room for them all, and tips Gerard’s face up, runs his thumb over the doubting line of his lips. “It isn’t. You don’t…” He shrugs, eloquent, expressing all the things Gerard’s done in the past, the things that helped, the things that were, charitably, misguided. Everything. “I’m just reminding you, cuz this is new, and I get to have a place in it from the start this time, right?”

Gerard nods, his mouth twisting. He remembers when he got together with Mikey, he remembers the blocks he put in place of their relationship – how he doubted every word Mikey said, how he questioned every emotion Mikey professed he had. 

He’d needed to do it. He’d had to be sure that Mikey had _really_ wanted him – that Gerard hadn’t been grooming him without even knowing what he was doing. 

But Mikey had hated it – every single second of it. He’d hated Gerard’s distrust, the proofs he’d had to come up with. He’d hated waiting, hated the limitations Gerard had insisted on. Hell, until he’d met Frank he’d hated that Gerard had insisted on him seeing other people. Gerard still remembers Mikey’s face the first time he’d come home after he’d been with Frank, how he’d tumbled into bed with Gerard, his eyes wide and confused and _hopeful_ , and how it had broken Gerard’s heart. 

The point is that Mikey wasn’t involved in the early days of their relationship – not as an equal, not as he should have been – and it’s not a mistake Gerard can afford to repeat, not now that Mikey is older and stronger.

So he nods again, and doesn’t bother apologising because all those words have already been said, and there’s no point revisiting them now. Instead he catches Mikey’s face, pulls him close and kisses him. 

“Gonna try,” he says. “And you’ll let me know if I fuck up, right?”

Mikey laughs, warm and genuine against his mouth, and it relaxes Gerard, reminds him this isn’t all down to him. 

“So…” Frank sounds fond, amused. “What do you wanna do this weekend, Mikes?” 

Mikey hums and pulls away from Gerard. 

“Can we get some stuff for my room?” he asks, his voice small, and Gerard is nodding even as Frank says “ _yes_ ”.

“We can put together a moodboard,” Gerard says, smiling at the thought. “Pick up some furniture, if you want.” 

“And we can go to the dog park tomorrow morning,” Frank says, his tone just on the edge of defiant. “So you can look at the different breeds and how they act.”

“Oh.” Mikey sounds dumbfounded. “You wouldn’t mind doing that?”

“Course not.” Frank sounds scandalised that Mikey might think he minds, but Gerard recognises that tone now, knows how much it deflects. “Can’t have you being confused about what sort of puppy you are, can we?” 

“I’d like that,” Mikey says. “I….” he trails off. “Yeah.” 

“Fine.” Frank pulls the empty coffee mug out of Gerard’s hands, and gestures to Mikey for his. “So, that’s the rest of the weekend planned, then. Now…” He grins at Mikey, wide and feral. “I think you’re owed an orgasm. What do you say, Gee? Feel like sucking him off with me?”


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you think of this?”

Frank looks up from the records he’s flicking through and frowns across the jumble of the thrift store at Gerard. 

“What?” he asks, and Gerard has to bite back his grin at the tone in his voice, because Mikey on a shopping spree is inexhaustible and even Gerard can’t keep up with him. Frank, who’s a master of avoiding shopping, is clearly out of his depth. 

“This.” Gerard gestures a vanity that is hidden under a box of decrepit cuddly toys, and which has clearly seen better days. He smiles at Frank’s concentrated frown. 

“For Mikey?” Frank picks his way through the mess and stands next to Gerard. He runs his fingers over the pitted surface of the wood. “It would need a hell of a lot of doing up.”

“But you could do it though?” Gerard can’t keep the hope from his voice, and Frank’s lips twist into the tiniest smile, even as he shrugs. 

“Yeah, probably. What were you thinking?”

“We keep it as a surprise,” Gerard says, picturing the look on Mikey’s face when he walks into his finished room and sees it. “Make it, like, a key thing in the room.” 

“And we fill it full of stuff.” Frank sounds thoughtful now, and he’s checking out the drawers, frowning when one of them sticks. 

“Stuff?” Gerard asks.

“You stuff, me stuff. You know. Stuff that makes him feel good.”

“That works.” It’s an impulse but Gerard gives in and kisses Frank on the cheek, before pulling away, painfully aware that he’s blushing. “Go and distract him while I buy it.”

“Maybe he’ll like looking at the vinyl,” Frank says with more hope than expectation, and Gerard shrugs. 

“Maybe. Though…” He looks over to where Mikey is enthusiastically discussing a chaise longue with the saleswoman. “Yeah.”

Frank sighs, but he sounds fond. “Gonna be renovating shit for weeks.”

“Seems like.” Gerard glances at him, suddenly worried he’s pushing his luck. “You good with that?”

“You kidding?” Frank shoves him gently with his shoulder. “You seen how happy he is about this?” They look over, to where Mikey is actually grinning at fabric samples the saleswoman’s got up on her mobile. “Gee, I’d do a fuckload more than that.” 

\--

“Coffee,” Gerard pleads at last. “Mikes, I love you, but coffee. Now. Please.”

“Fine.” Mikey huffs, but he wraps his arm around Gerard anyway. “But what did you think of the wardrobe?”

“I loved it,” Gerard says, more able to summon some enthusiasm now Mikey’s steering him towards somewhere that smells of coffee. “And the bed.”

“And you think you can fix up the chaise longue?” Mikey stumbles slightly as he turns to ask Frank, and Gerard sighs, starts pulling his own weight, because… coffee. 

Frank grins at him. “Course I can,” he says. “You chose the fabric you wanted in the last place, right?”

Mikey nods. “There’s something missing, though. I just…” He shrugs and Gerard pauses outside the door of the coffee shop so he can turn and look at him.

“Hey.” He kisses Mikey, furtive and quick and hating the way his heart lurches in his chest when he does it. “We’ll fix that. It just needs the fabrics and paint and stuff to coordinate it.”

“And you have ideas for that?” 

Gerard nods and pushes the door open. “Shown them to you, haven’t I?”

Mikey nods, but he’s quiet while they order their coffee and watch Frank trying to work out if he actually wants one of the vegan cakes they have on display. It’s only when they’ve sat down, when he’s stirred an unfeasible number of sugar packets into his drink, that he looks up at Gerard again. 

“And…” He bites his lip. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

He sounds nervous, like the answer means more to him than just a decorating decision, and Gerard throws caution to the wind and reaches out to take his hand. 

“It’s who you want to be.” He strokes his fingers over Mikey’s knuckles and even after all these years it feels daring to do this in public. “And I love it. Anyway, if you want to change it, you can. You’re not gonna be stuck with this if you don’t like it.”

That makes Mikey smile, and he nods minutely. 

“But you’ll have put so much time into this,” he says. “I don’t…”

“Hey.” This time it’s Frank who reaches out, covers both of their hands with his, so it looks like they’re making some sort of blood pact in a New Jersey coffee shop on a miserably damp Saturday afternoon. “You’re worth it, Mikes. No matter what you want to do when it’s done, it’s worth doing it so you get to find out.” 

Mikey’s smile is stronger this time, less shaky. 

“Okay,” he says, and pulls his hand free to drink his coffee. “So, maybe we could look at some lamps before we go home?”

It’s a testament to how much Frank cares that there isn’t the slightest flicker of alarm on his face as he nods. 

“Sure,” he says, even though Gerard is fairly sure he knows how shopped-out Frank is feeling right now. 

“We need to be quick though.” Gerard pretends he doesn’t see the relief in Frank’s eyes, and smiles at Mikey instead. “We have a dog park to get to, after all.”

Mikey’s face lights up. “Really?” He sounds incredulous. “We’ll have time for that as well? Guys…” He breaks off, and it takes Gerard a second to realize why his expression is so familiar. His heart twists when he does – it’s the same face Mikey used to have the night before Christmas when he was waiting for his presents, and it makes Gerard warm, happy in a way he can’t properly express. 

“Of course,” he says, and drinks his coffee while Frank and Mikey start talking about dog personalities. 

It’s a conversation that drifts on through two lighting shops, the dog park, and back to the house. Gerard zones out, to be honest. Frank knows a lot about dogs, is able to answer every single one of Mikey’s questions, and apart from answering a couple of direct questions Gerard leaves them to it. 

He has an idea for a mural, something that will tie the disparate parts of Mikey’s room together and he leaves Frank ordering pizza while he grabs a sketchbook and starts trying to put ideas down on the page. 

It takes his complete concentration, and he only catches snippets of what they’re talking about, and by the time Mikey pulls the sketch book away from him and hands him a slice of pizza, it’s turned heated. 

“I’m just saying…” Mikey gestures with a slice of pizza and Frank winces as a slice of pepper flies off and hits the rug. “I just don’t see myself being prey orientated, you know?”

“Fair point.” Frank’s chewing his pizza with a thoughtful frown on his face. “I was thinking of them as sensitive and smart. And…” He pulls one of Mikey’s legs out from under him, tucks it over his lap. “They got that lean, elegant look, you know? With big, clever eyes and, well…” He breaks off, takes another bite of his pizza, his cheeks pink. 

It’s almost shocking to see him like this, Gerard decides, and he watches them, tries to puzzle out what it is that’s different. It’s only when Mikey blushes as well that Gerard realizes – Frank doesn’t tend to praise Mikey outside of scenes. He’s not romantic, or not in the way that Hollywood tries to sell that shit. He’s a lot more likely to express his feelings through actions than words, and yet he’s doing his best right now to identify all the traits he recognises and loves in Mikey to help Mikey choose an appropriate puppy. 

“What do you think, Mikes?” Gerard asks, partly curious now, partly wanting to make things easier for Frank if he can. 

Mikey bites his lip. “I dunno,” he says, and Gerard knows he’s lying, knows it from every line of his face and body. “I mean, I was wondering… But…” He breaks off, and Gerard leans over to grab his laptop. 

“Why don’t you show us?” he asks, pushing it into Mikey’s hands, and Mikey only hesitates for a handful of seconds before he’s typing something into the search bar and handing it back to Gerard. 

He won’t look straight away, though; this isn’t just him, and it takes a moment for him to shove himself onto the sofa next to Frank. Then they look at it together, and Frank’s face lights up. 

“Hey.” He turns, looks at Mikey like he’s seeing him through new eyes. “That’s a brilliant choice, Mikes.”

“A poodle?” Gerard says, keeping his voice as neutral as he can. Frank nods, enthusiastic. 

“So fucking intelligent,” he says. “But they’re elegant as well, right? And the standard ones, the big ones, can still be working dogs now.” He reaches out, tucks a chunk of Mikey’s hair back behind his ear. “People discount them cuz they’re _pretty_ , but they’re fucking loyal and mischievous, and clever.” He smiles at Mikey. “It’s perfect for you.”

Gerard finds himself nodding, because described like that, it is a perfect choice for Mikey. 

“Yeah,” he says, and grins at Mikey, who’s slouched to the floor now so he can lean back against Frank’s knees and let Frank pet his hair. “That works…” He takes a breath. “But, Mikey…”

Mikey makes a quizzical noise, but Gerard can see Frank’s face, knows he knows what Gerard’s about to ask.

“You’re a girl pup,” Gerard says. “Aren’t you, Mikes?” 

Mikey looks away and Gerard climbs down off the sofa so he can sit on the floor next to Mikey and hold his hands. 

“Hey, Mikes. Hey. It…” He fumbles for the right words. He wants to say it doesn’t matter, but it clearly _does_ – though not in the way Mikey fears. “It’s okay,” he manages at last. “We love you for you. You can be whatever you want to be, and we’ll still love you, still be so fucking proud of you.” 

“Course we will,” Frank says, his voice rough and his hand tight in Mikey’s hair holding him still. “We _do_.”

Mikey nods, but he still looks hesitant, unsure and Gerard reaches out to touch his face gently. 

“Just think of the pretty things you can have,” he says, like Mikey’s gender’s ever stopped Gerard from buying him pretty things already. “I bet Frankie’ll get you the sparkliest diamante leash.”

“Seen a pink one that will work perfectly,” Frank says without skipping a beat. “Gonna look so good on you, baby.”

That makes Mikey relax a bit, and when Frank hands him a slice of pizza he eats it without complaining, even though he stays on the floor, pressed between Frank and Gerard’s legs when Gerard lets himself be pulled back up on the sofa. 

It would worry Gerard maybe, but Frank asks a question about when the bed is being delivered, and if Gerard wants to do any painting in the room before then, and Mikey chips in, asking if his crate can go at the end of his bed, and it’s easy to let the other conversation drop. 

Mikey still hasn’t answered Gerard’s question – not really – but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t actually need to, and when he puts his head on Gerard’s thigh Gerard’s fingers tangle with Frank’s as they pet his head. 

Frank and Mikey are a warm sleepy lump in the blanket when Gerard wakes up the next morning, and it’s a struggle to leave them. _It’s just for coffee_ , he lies to himself, and uses that to get himself out of bed, to pull on some sweats and a t-shirt, and to pad downstairs. 

His sketchpad is still in the living room and he wraps himself in a blanket to keep himself warm while he sips coffee and considers Mikey’s room. 

It’s important that it’s perfect – or that it makes Mikey happy at the very least – and Gerard spends the next half hour sketching until his cup is empty and he has a good idea of what he needs to do to bring Mikey’s room together. 

It’s tempting to go back to bed after that – Mikey and Frank are pressed together when Gerard stops at the door, Frank’s face pushed into the crook of Mikey’s neck, his lips slightly parted, an occasional tiny snore that Gerard can hear from across the room. It would be so easy to climb back in next to them, to doze maybe, to let them wake him up with their clever fingers and lips…

He shakes his head and turns away, shutting the door quietly behind him. He wants to make a start on Mikey’s room before he wakes up. It’s absorbing work; he’s more used to working on paper these days, and he barely registers the first noises that come from his room. They’re just laughs, low and content, and it isn’t until he hears the first sharp sound of a hand hitting skin that he realizes what’s happening. 

He’s tempted to join them, but they need this time together, he thinks, so he just smiles, pictures what they’re doing, and keeps on pencilling his outlines onto the wall until he’s interrupted by the sound of the door pushing open. 

“Hey.” Mikey’s cheeks are still pink-tinged, his lips still kiss-swollen, and he has the loose-limbed grace of the well fucked. “Thought you might come and join us.”

Gerard just shrugs and smiles, gestures to the wall behind him. “Wanted to get started on this,” he says. “‘sides, thought the two of you could do with some space of your own.” 

Mikey hums and comes close enough that he can wrap his arms around Gerard, rest his chin on his shoulder and look at what he’s been drawing with critical eyes. 

“Fair enough,” he says when he’s finally nodded his approval, a small smile of satisfaction twisting his lips, and his hands slipping under Gerard’s t-shirt and petting the soft curve of his stomach. “An’ what’s stopping you now?”

“You know me.” Gerard turns his face so he can kiss Mikey just over his ear. “Always a whore for audience feedback. Wanted to give you a chance to see the art.” 

Mikey nods. “I like it,” he says. “Abstract, but there’s kind of a flow to it. What colors are you gonna use?” 

Gerard shrugs. “You want me to tell you? Or you wanna be surprised?” He smiles at the way Mikey purses his lips, knows that Mikey’s torn. He always was the one to shake the presents under the tree, trying to guess what his surprises were, but in the end he shakes his head. 

“You and Frank have things planned.” His voice is breathless now as Gerard bites his earlobe, lets his teeth graze the soft skin. “Got to let you think you got control of this, don’t I?” 

It makes Gerard laugh, and he turns to that he can kiss Mikey, can bite at his lips until he’s moaning and pressing into Gerard’s touch. 

“You think we don’t?” Gerard asks, and Mikey’s laughing now as well, breathless as he lets Gerard push him down onto the dust sheet that’s covering the carpet. 

“Prove it,” he says, and pulls off his t-shirt, revealing the pink marks of Frank’s hands on his skin, marks that will bruise in time, that are just small swollen marks for now. 

Gerard reaches down, pushes on the biggest of the marks he can see – a reddening bite mark just above the jut of Mikey’s hip bone – watches as Mikey’s eyes widen and he bites his lip. 

“Always thought he was marking you,” he says, his voice quiet as he presses on the next mark, makes Mikey hiss. “But maybe he was just leaving me messages on your skin.” He bends down, bites at the next mark, matching his teeth to Frank’s and Mikey moans. “Showing me how to touch you when you need it.” 

It takes time to touch all the marks, to press and bite them, and by the time he’s done, Mikey is pushing up against his touch, trying and failing to stifle a series of desperate noises. 

He’s utterly desperate, panting and wide eyed, and as Gerard kneels back and looks at him, spread out and beautiful in his new room, he knows exactly what he wants to do. 

“Hey.” He leans forward, kisses Mikey as gently as a promise. “Beautiful girl.” 

Mikey’s eyes fly open and he makes a tiny, helpless noise as Gerard starts to kiss his way down his body, keeping his eyes locked on Mikey’s the whole way. 

The shuddering breath that Mikey draws in as Gerard sucks one nipple to a peak, moves over and bites at the other makes him think he’s made the right call here and it makes him brave enough to keep kissing down Mikey’s torso, letting his cheek rest against the hard line of Mikey’s cock for a fraction of a second before he pushes Mikey’s legs apart and pauses, his hands on Mikey’s thighs, laying Mikey open for him. 

“May I?” he asks, and he waits until Mikey nods before he scooches down to settle between his legs. 

“Gee.” Mikey’s voice is hoarse and Gerard kisses the inside of his thigh before rubbing his fingers over Mikey’s hole. 

“So fucking wet for me, baby. You’re gonna taste so good.” 

He’s gone down on women before, of course he has. But it’s been years since then, since the first time Mikey had kissed him and Gerard had been gone for anyone else. He remembers, though and does his best to replicate the experience for Mikey, given the restrictions of biology and form. 

It helps that Mikey’s willing to play along, to fist his hands in the dust sheet by his head instead of touching himself, to let the noises he makes rise in pitch until they are high, feminine broken as Gerard licks him open, licks the taste of Frank from him, slides his fingers into him and works him, relentless as he used to work his girlfriends, until he’s wrapping his legs around Gerard’s head, gripping him with his thighs. 

“Hey.” Gerard moves up, lets his teeth lightly graze the length of Mikey’s cock. “You want me to lick your clit, pretty girl?” 

“Gee.” Mikey sounds frantic, reaches out and pushes his fingers into Gerard’s hair. 

“I want to,” Gerard says. “I wanna lick you, baby. I want to feel you come.” 

He licks at the head of Mikey’s cock, wet and messy and exactly like he would lick a girl, and Mikey grits out a broken _fuck_ and comes over Gerard’s lips, his face. 

“Fuck,” he says again as he reaches out, rubs his fingers through his come, smearing it across Gerard’s skin like he’s marking him. “Let me…”

He starts to reach out to Gerard, but Gerard pushes him back, his hand firm in the middle of Mikey’s chest. 

“Let me,” he says and pushes his sweatpants down just far enough so he can start stroking himself off, rough and dry, while he looks at Mikey debauched and beautiful under him. 

“Gonna make you so pretty,” he says, not able to stop the words. “Gonna make the room pretty and dress you up and do your makeup and take you out so everyone can see you, then I’m gonna bring you back here and fuck you while you cling to me, while everyone who saw us together is jealous of me, of the fucking perfect girl I was with…”

Mikey’s looking at him, his eyes wide, and his lips shaping the most beautiful sounds, and Gerard can see what it will be like, can feel how warm Mikey will be next to him, can almost smell the woody, spicy perfume he’ll be wearing and it’s too much. He comes over Mikey’s stomach while Mikey watches, then collapses next to him, his breath coming in loud, broken gasps. 

“Shit,” he says at last, when he can manage words. “That was…” He runs his fingers through his hair, not caring he’s smearing come in with the sweat. “Thank you.”

Mikey’s lips quirk. “Yeah,” he says. “I got nothing out of it.”

It’s dry and completely him and they lie next to each other, fingers linked, laughing quietly to themselves, comfortable and in love and just like a hundred other Sunday mornings they’ve shared.

“Seriously,” Mikey says at last. “I like that. I like it when you…” His cheeks go pink and he makes a gesture that Gerard chooses to interpret as _make me feel pretty_ , or _gender me as a woman_ , or something. 

“I like it too,” he says, voice low, because they don’t ever talk about this stuff, even though it’s something they’ve done almost from the start. “Just, Mikes…” He wriggles around so he’s lying on his side, facing him. “You’re not doing this to make me happy, are you?”

“No,” Mikey says, then bites his lip. “I mean, not now.”

“But you did?” It’s something that’s been worrying Gerard. His heart sinks when Mikey nods. 

“I…” Gerard breaks off, not sure what to say because _sorry_ doesn’t start to cover it, and he’s suddenly deeply scared. 

“No.” Mikey reaches out, cups his face so Gerard can’t look away. “Gee, you need to listen to me on this. This isn't something where there’s _fault_ , and if there was, it wouldn’t be yours.” He frowns. “I need you to understand.”

“So explain,” Gerard says, and puts his hand over Mikey’s, holds it there. “Tell me, Mikes. I’m not going anywhere.”

“The first time you did this,” Mikey says, his voice tiny, “I’d never done anything like it before. And you made me feel…” He breaks off, runs his fingers over Gerard’s face. “Like I was perfect. And I’d never felt like that before, never felt beautiful or wanted like that.” He puts his finger on Gerard’s lips when Gerard takes a breath to speak, because that first time wasn’t long after they’d got together, but surely Mikey had known how Gerard felt. Surely he’d said _something_. “No, let me.” He waits for Gerard to nod before he breathes, tries again. “It was all so difficult when we got together, like it was all hard edges and ultimatums, and I worked so hard to prove myself for you…”

“I didn’t mean…” Gerard begins but Mikey shakes his head. 

“I know why you did it, Gee. And you did the right thing, I guess. You made me think about why I wanted you, why I wanted _this_ and you made sure I worked for it – that it wasn’t just the easy option. But it was hard, and when you put that dress on me…”

His eyes fall shut and Gerard _remembers_. It was just a summer slip of a dress, bright flowers and frayed hem that he’d seen in a thrift store and hadn’t been able to forget. He’d snuck out of work during his lunch break and crept back with it burning a hole in his satchel, convinced that everyone would know – would know he was a deviant who was fucking his brother, had brought something pretty for him to wear while he was fucking him. 

It had taken him three weeks until he was brave enough to give the dress to Mikey. He’d waited until Mikey came home from a date with one of the faceless scene boys that Gerard insisted Mikey go out with so that he _knew_ that Mikey had options, wasn’t just with Gerard because it was convenient. He’d knelt at Mikey’s feet and held the dress up like an offering to a goddess and Mikey had stripped, his face more impassive than Gerard had ever seen it, had let Gerard help him into the dress, had climbed onto Gerard’s knee and let him whisper praise and love into his ear until he was hard, had ridden Gerard while he was still wearing the dress, his cock tenting the front of it, obscene and beautiful, and Gerard had been kissing him when they both came together. 

“When you put that dress on me, you didn’t see the problems any more. You didn’t see your kid brother, or someone you might be taking advantage of. You just saw me, and you told me I was beautiful…”

Mikey kisses him then, light as the touch of a feather on his lips. 

“I couldn’t forget that. Whenever I was panicking or scared, whenever I thought I was worthless, whenever I doubted that you loved me… I remembered that. It was somewhere I was safe. I was _someone_ safe. Someone who didn’t have the baggage your brother did.” Mikey shrugs. “It’s like that when I’m a puppy for Frank. I don’t have to worry about who I was yesterday or who I’ll be tomorrow. I just have to be who I am right now, and you’ll keep me safe and love me. “

“Yeah.” Gerard’s eyes are stinging, and he blinks the tears back because this isn’t his thing to be sad about, this is the journey Mikey – his brother, the man he loves – has been on, and he’s so damn _proud_ right now. “That’s good, Mikes. That’s best.” He takes a breath, tries to remember what words are. “I just guess I want to know that you do this for you – not that you’re doing it because you think it’s something I want.”

Mikey smiles at him like he’s missing the point. 

“Who dressed me up the second time?” he asks, and Gerard blushes, remembering how he’d come home from work and found Mikey, awkward in high heels, his makeup clumsy and hopeful, but in a dress, stockings, lace panties. “I chose this, Gee. I chose you. You didn’t force me to do this – it’s been a part of me for a long time now.”

“You never said.” The words are small. Gerard can’t hide his worry that he’s somehow handled this wrong. 

“I never needed to, not to begin with. It took me ages to realize that she was a part of me all the time, not just something I put on to excite you, and…” He bites his lip. “I guess I wanted to keep her safe. I wasn’t sure, you know? That Frank would get it, that…” He breaks off and Gerard finishes for him.

“That I’d get it.” He smiles, even though the words hurt. “I’m sorry, Mikes. You should always know you can tell me things.”

“Yeah.” Mikey nods, kisses him again. “I do know. The past few weeks…” He smiles. “Things have changed, Gee. There was nothing wrong before, but things feel better now. Like I understand what’s happening in my head. Like I know how I can make it help.”

It’s what Gerard needed to hear, and he smiles, lets Mikey pull him close and kiss him breathless. 

“We should find Frank,” he says at last. “Go out and get some lunch.”

Mikey smiles at him and rubs at his face. “Maybe we can share a shower first,” he says. Gerard nods, picking himself up off the floor while Mikey scrambles from the room and calls out to Frank. He heads to the bathroom and sets the shower running. 

—

He feels strange the next morning. After the build up of the last week, and the intensity of the weekend, it feels almost like an anti-climax when Mikey and Frank leave for work, each of them kissing him goodbye, and he’s left alone in the house. 

He forces himself to get out of bed, because it would be far too easy to just stay there. He sits at his desk and stares at the pages he should be working on, but the story means nothing to him this morning, and by 11 he’s given up and is brewing coffee in the kitchen and poking morosely through the fridge. 

He’s not hungry yet, and he only catches onto what he’s doing when he realizes he’s put together a wrap of falafel and salad and the spiced hummus that’s Frank’s favourite. He grins. Clearly his subconscious has better ideas than the rest of him, so he makes some fruit salad and brews some more coffee for the thermos that he’s sure is knocking around in the back of the cupboard. 

He’s still too early for it to be considered properly lunchtime though, but he’s drunk too much coffee and is too jittery to settle, so he packs everything up and heads to the garage, hoping that Frank won’t mind him watching him work for a bit. 

Frank’s talking to an elderly lady when Gerard arrives, one of the sort who delights in being shocking, and she’s already brought a blush to Frank’s cheeks before she’s even handed over the keys to her car. Gerard watches from behind a beat-up Chevy that’s waiting to have something hopelessly mechanical done to it. 

“Should I be jealous?” he asks at last, when she finally leaves Frank alone, and Frank looks like he’s very close to actually rolling his eyes. 

“Yes,” he says, his voice completely flat. “I have seen the error of my ways and want nothing more in life than to run off with a 80 year old grandmother who seems to have a range of granddaughters who would be perfect for me.”

Gerard nods, grave. “It’s important to be able to confront changes to your sexuality,” he says, doing his best to keep his voice as deadpan as he can. “And I want you to know that Mikey and I will be here for you during this time and if you need us to role-play we…”

“I swear to god,” Frank says, the words a low, dangerous hiss. “The first one of you to try to pinch my cheeks and call me _pumpkin_ will be slapped into next week.” 

That makes Gerard laugh. “Yeah,” he says. “Not sure that’s gonna be such a deterrent to Mikey.” He pauses, looks at Frank, considering. “Or me.” 

“Really?” Frank’s eyes light up, interested now. “Didn’t think you’d be into that.” 

Gerard shrugs, suddenly fascinated by the scuff marks on the toes of his Converse. “Might be worth a try some time.” 

“Yeah.” Frank sounds thoughtful, pleased, and when Gerard looks up he’s taken aback at how beautiful he is, even in his overalls, even with a smudge of oil on his face, and he has to look away. “But you didn’t come here to check that I wasn’t running off with old ladies, did you?”

“Nah.” Gerard holds up the satchel full of lunch. “Thought I might be able to steal you away for an hour. Make the most of the sunshine.” 

“Sure.” Frank’s smile is wide, unguarded. “I mean, I got a couple of things to finish, but if you don’t mind hanging around for a bit, we can go to the park?” 

“I can come back if that’s easier?”

“No. You’re good here, just keep out of the way, and try not to get squished.” He puts his hand on Gerard’s arm and steers him to a chair. “I like you in one piece.”

His voice is warm, and it makes Gerard smile. It’s fascinating watching Frank work – to see how clever and capable he is, how he blends strength and skill to get the job done, and it’s not long before Gerard’s reaching for the sketchpad that somehow snuck into his satchel alongside lunch. 

It starts out as sketches, body parts without context, except for how they make Gerard feel. The twist of ink on Frank’s bicep, flexed as he’s picking something up; the curl of Frank’s hair on the collar of his t-shirt, where he needs a haircut and has been too busy to get one done; the crows feet at the corner of his eyes when he’s laughing at something one of the others has said. It’s mesmerising, easy to get lost in, and Gerard literally jumps when Frank puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Hey.” To be fair to Frank, it looks like he’s trying to hold back his laughter at Gerard’s undignified squeak at least. “I’m done here. You ready?”

“Yeah.” Gerard snaps the book shut and tucks it away. “I was just waiting for you.”

“Sure.” Frank’s face is turned away, but Gerard can hear his cheerful scepticism regardless. “That’s why I had to call you three times, right?”

“You think you’re funny, but I’m the one holding the lunch here,” Gerard says, and only just manages to swing the satchel out of reach of Frank’s grabbing arms. 

“Not fair!” Frank looks like he’s considering wrestling Gerard to the sidewalk for the satchel, and it’s probably only the public setting that’s saving him. “You can’t target my weaknesses like that.” 

“Yeah,” Gerard says. “Right. Like there’s any other way I’m gonna win.”

It makes Frank laugh. “Gimme,” he says and bounces onto their favourite bench making grabby hands for the wrap Gerard pulls out. 

Frank’s so damn enthusiastic about lunch that it makes Gerard’s chest ache. He’s never counted himself as much of a cook, but Frank treats everything he makes like it’s something special. Maybe it is, Gerard thinks. Maybe having someone make it for him makes it special. It’s an awkward, almost painful thought, that makes him feel like Frank is something vulnerable, something that’s his to protect. 

He’s so lost in the thought, in the strangeness and familiarity of the feeling, that he misses the question that Frank asks, and it’s only when Frank pokes his arm that Gerard even realizes he’s being spoken to. 

“Earth to Gee?” Frank sounds amused rather than angry, and he grins when Gerard shrugs, caught out. “Can you take Mikey out tonight? I want to work on the dressing table.”

“Sure,” Gerard says, because it’s never a chore to spend time with Mikey. “But isn’t it going to get obvious that we’re hiding things from him? I mean…” He shrugs. “I’m guessing it will take longer than one evening to get it done up.”

Frank frowns. “You got a point. It’s going to take a good few hours to fix the drawers and strip the paint off, never mind the repainting and fixing lights to it” He bites his lip. “I could swap shifts. Cover for James on Saturday and take tomorrow off. If I get the paint stripped tonight, I should be able to do most of the rest while Mikey’s at work.” 

“I can help?” Gerard offers, even though woodwork isn’t really his thing. 

“Yeah.” Frank grins at him around a mouthful of wrap. “That would be good. I’d like to do that with you.”

Gerard smiles, the idea that they’ll be doing a project together filling him with something warm and satisfied. 

“There’s a lot of changes,” he says, even though it hadn’t been what he’d intended to say when he opened his mouth. Frank just nods. 

“Change can be good,” he says, his tone carefully neutral, like he’s giving Gerard space to work out his thoughts. 

“Still takes time to adjust,” Gerard says, and he’s not sure if he’s talking about Mikey, or about him and Frank, just that this is something that he needs to talk about, and he and Frank are in this together.

“Yeah.” Frank finishes the wrap, balls up the greaseproof paper Gerard had wrapped it in, tosses it at the trash can, smiling when it goes in. “Tell me about it.”

“Don’t have to,” Gerard says. “We’re in this together, aren’t we?” He hesitates, suddenly shy. “You okay with it?” 

Frank looks at him, his face soft and open. “Yeah,” he says, and he’s telling the truth, Gerard can tell. “I’m okay with what Mikey’s doing. I’m okay with us. It’s good.”

“It’s not what you thought you were getting into though,” Gerard says, because apparently he’s going to poke at this like a sore tooth. 

“Nothing ever is.” Frank touches Gerard’s face, tilts it up so they’re looking at each other. “I never thought I could put either of you in a box. I wouldn’t want to.”

“No?” Gerard bumps shoulders with him. “It’d make us easier to deal with.”

“Where would be the fun in that? No.” Frank shakes his head. “I’m sticking around for the ride.”

“Good.” Gerard reaches out, impulsive. He takes Frank’s hand, watching to check that it’s okay to be doing this. “Guess I’m getting used to having you around.”

Frank laughs. “That’s it? That’s your idea of romance?” He sighs, sadly. “I’m disappointed in you, Gee. I’ve listened to Mikey’s stories. I was expecting better from you.”

“You want me to treat you like I treat Mikey?” Gerard tilts his head, considers Frank, how he’s biting his lip and suddenly looking anywhere but at Gerard, like there’s something he’d like but can’t ask for. “I didn’t think you’d like that.”

Frank shrugs, a small, tight movement. “It sounds fun,” he says, like he’s saying something shameful. “I’ve listened sometimes.” 

“Yeah?” Gerard reaches out, puts his hand on the back of Frank’s head and scootches closer, tips Frank’s face up towards him. “Cuz…” He touches Frank’s cheek gently with his other hand. “I can work with that, beautiful.”

Frank’s eyes flutter shut, his lashes a dark fan on his cheeks. “Yeah,” he says at last. “Yeah. I’d like to try it.”

They’re in a park, and this is Newark, and even if things are more laidback than they used to be, Gerard still can’t do what he wants to right now. But he has to do _something_. He leans in, kisses Frank, quick and hard, a promise of what he’ll do later. 

It’s not something he’s really considered doing, but the idea is attractive, and as he walks home from the park, he’s plotting properly, weighing ideas that might work, might just give him what he wants – what he’s starting to think Frank might need as much as he does. 

—

For all that they’ve lived together for years now, Gerard’s not sure that he and Frank have ever taken a day off together without Mikey. 

It says a lot about the project that Mikey’s been handed at work that he doesn’t seem to notice though. He just kisses them both goodbye and heads out, satchel over his shoulder without asking Frank why he hasn’t left already. 

Frank watches him go with his face creased into a slight frown. 

“What’s happening at work?” he asks. 

Gerard shrugs. “Some big project came in,” he says. “But his boss is off. General manager has given him a team to work on it, but it’s kind of a big thing.”

Frank hums. “We should keep an eye on him.” 

Gerard nods. “I am,” he says. “But he doesn’t seem stressed this time.” He chews the edge of his thumb, tries to find the right words. “It’s more like he’s just busy, but coping.” 

Frank raises an eyebrow and Gerard shrugs again. He doesn’t want to make Mikey’s anxiety into some _thing_ – normal is a spectrum after all, and some of the attitudes teachers and bosses and even family have had in the past have just made things more difficult for Mikey. But the way he’s reacting to this project, well. It’s how Gerard reacts to deadlines, there’s stress but it’s manageable. It can even be helpful. 

“Let me know if that changes.” Frank’s watching his face, like he can see Gerard’s thoughts play out on it. Maybe he can – or maybe he just knows Mikey well enough that he’s not really worried yet, so Gerard grins at him, puts his own concern to one side. 

“Come on.” He grabs Frank’s wrists. “I was promised you stripping wood.” 

It makes Frank laugh.

“Can’t disappoint my audience,” he says, and lets Gerard drag him into the garage. 

Sitting under the fluorescent light, the vanity is not an imposing sight. In fact it looks a lot more dilapidated than it had in the shop, which is saying something, and Gerard drops Frank’s hand as they take it in. 

“We don’t have to do this,” he says at last when they’ve both taken a step back from it. “I mean…”

Frank makes a dismissive noise. “You think I can’t do this?” He walks forward, tugs at the top drawer. Winces as the handle falls off in his hand. “It’s not so bad.”

Gerard nods. Frank’s glaring at him like he’s daring him to say anything different, and Gerard’s not sure he can cope with Frank in a fighting mood. 

“What do you need to do?”

It’s the right question – or maybe the wrong one. Frank sags. 

“Gonna need to repair the drawers,” he says. “They’re fucked. And the runner cuz I don’t think they’re true either.” He runs his fingers over the pitted surface. “Strip the old paint and varnish. Refinish it.” He shrugs. “Check for woodworm and shit like that. You know.”

He looks slightly dispirited and Gerard slips his arm around his shoulders. 

“You got this,” he tells Frank. “I know you. You can do a lot more than this.”

He’s not sure about that, of course. He’s only seen Frank with cars, but Frank is capable and clever and actually Gerard is fairly confident in his abilities. And it’s the right thing to say without doubt this time. Frank smiles and kisses his nose. 

“Okay,” he says, his tone lighter now. “What you gonna do while I work?” 

“Can I help?” Gerard knows how sceptical he sounds, and from Frank’s grin he catches it too.

“When it’s stripped,” he says, “and I have the drawers running smoothly. I thought you could do some gold detailing here,” he points, “and here.”

“Yeah.” Gerard nods. “That’ll look good.” He shrugs, suddenly unwilling to leave. “Is there anything I can do until then?”

Frank drops his head to one side, looking at him, and Gerard has to force himself not to squirm. 

“Keep me company?” Frank says at last, like it’s even a question. “I mean, unless you have something better…”

“No, no!” Gerard holds his hands up. “I’d love to spend the day with you, Frankie.” He blushes. “You know that.”

“Cool.” Frank looks pleased, and Gerard isn’t sure why, because he must know how Gerard feels by now. 

It’s fun to watch Frank work, different to yesterday despite all the similarities, because Frank’s not working on metal this time, he’s concentrating on the wood of the dresser, and it’s softer, more personal. 

Gerard has his laptop open on his knee, about twenty tabs open as he tries to decide between brands of knee pads for Mikey, but Frank keeps drawing his eyes and in the end he gives in and fires off an email to Elisa asking her advice before putting the laptop down and reaching for his sketch book. 

It takes Frank a few minutes to notice – he’s pulled the drawers out and has them set to one side and is using an electric sander to strip years of dubious paint and varnish off the wood. When he does notice he just shakes his head, but Gerard sees him grinning as he turns back to the vanity and he’s more aware of his posture and the flex of his muscles now as he works. 

It takes a while for him to get the finish he wants, but Gerard’s not complaining. He likes sketching Frank, likes trying to capture the tightly coiled muscle and movement, his poise. The way his hands move, clever and sure and capable. It’s never something he’s really considered before, but he’s coming to realize that maybe he has a capability kink. 

Maybe it’s just a Frank kink he thinks as Frank puts down the sander and stretches, rolling his neck and his shoulders. Gerard feels desire coil through him, slow and lazy. 

“Whatcha doing?” Frank’s grinning at him, fond and indulgent, and Gerard shrugs. 

“Finding kneepads for Mikes,” he says, and Frank flops down on the floor next to him, presses against his side. 

“Don’t need a sketchbook for that,” he says and puts his chin on Gerard’s shoulder. “Let me see?” 

Gerard’s not sure why he’s embarrassed about this, but he is and it’s only the hopeful look on Frank’s face that makes him give in and pass the book to Frank.

Frank makes a pleased noise and opens it without even pulling away, so Gerard can hear his breath, feel the reactions in his body as he looks. 

“They’re good,” he says at last, and Gerard feels something complex inside himself relax at the words. “I like seeing myself the way you see me.” He runs a finger over a sketch of him sanding the vanity, over the concentrated scrunch of his forehead. “You should draw me on stage some time.”

“Yeah.” Gerard lets himself press closer. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Frank kisses his temple. “That’s settled then. Now…” He burrows his face into Gerard’s hair, breathes deep, like he’s not trying to hide the fact he’s _sniffing_ Gerard. “You want me to take a look at these kneepads with you?”

It’s easier to choose with Frank’s help and Gerard orders them and goes to put the laptop back down. 

“Wait a sec.” Frank sounds interested. “I wanna look at the other tabs.”

“Oh.” Gerard tries not to squirm away, but it’s a challenge. “They’re nothing much.”

“Then you should let me see.” Frank blinks up at him, all big puppy eyes. “Please, Gee?” 

“Fine.” Gerard slides the laptop across to Frank. “Just…” _Don’t judge_ , he wants to say, or _be gentle_ but he doesn’t. He shrugs instead and Frank rests his head against Gerard’s as he starts to flick through. 

He makes an approving noise at some of the more informational links that Gerard had opened first, but perks up when he finds the link to the handmade muzzle mask that Gerard had been considering getting. 

“This is cool,” he says and Gerard leans into him a bit. 

“You think he’d like one?” He scrolls down the page so Frank can see the different sorts they make. “Patrick’s was cool when he came over and I thought that Mikes might like one, especially if you guys went out to play in a club or something.”

“It’s a good idea,” Frank says. “But they’re quite expensive, aren’t they?” 

Gerard shrugs. They avoid talking about money, as a rule, and it makes Gerard feel awkward because he can afford to get the mask without really thinking about it. 

“Hey.” Frank nudges him with his shoulder. “I didn’t mean anything, Gee. Just that you might want to let Mikey choose things like the color and the ears if you want to get him a nice one.”

“Oh.” Gerard screws his face up, feeling stupid. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

Frank kisses his cheek and bookmarks the page. “Show it to him later and get him to tell you what he wants. And, hey.” He puts his arm around Gerard, settles them closer together. “You can come to the clubs with us, you know. If you’d like.” 

Gerard can’t help the sceptical noise he makes at this. “They’re not really my thing,” he says, and Frank chuckles into his shoulder. 

“You’ve never been,” he says. “And you liked Elisa, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah.” Gerard’s not sure why he feels so reluctant to talk to Frank about this, but he does. “But…” 

“What?” Frank sounds honestly curious – there’s no judgement in his face, just the fastest edge of warm concern, and it’s that that makes Gerard take a breath, screw his courage up. 

“I can’t be in public with Mikey,” he says, carefully looking away from Frank. “Not like that.”

“Why not?” Frank sounds confused and Gerard shakes his head. “I know you don’t like being naked, but you wouldn’t have to…”

“No.” Gerard closes his eyes so he can’t even see Frank. “It’s _me_ and Mikey.” He pauses, but Frank doesn’t say anything. “What if someone knows us? Knows he’s my brother? They’ll see us together and they’ll _know_ … everyone will know and…” The words are spilling out of him now and he can’t breathe and he’s not sure how much sense he’s even making.

“Gee?” Frank puts his hand on the back of Gerard’s neck, heavy and warm, and he _grips_ , and Gerard inhales, drops his head, finally able to stop talking. 

They sit there like that for a few minutes while Gerard’s breathing returns to normal, motionless except for the steady squeeze and release of Frank’s fingers on Gerard’s neck, until Gerard can finally feel his panic dissipate and can open his eyes again. 

“You don’t have to come,” Frank says at last. “And if you do, you could go with me and I’ll play with Mikey and no one will know you’re together.”

It makes Gerard sigh. “People know you’re together with Mikey,” he says, keeping the words as simple as he can, trying to hide all the hurt behind them. “People know Mikey’s my brother. If they see you and me together they’re going ask questions. Besides,” he drops his voice low. “Maybe I want to be able to play with Mikey in public without worrying about things.”

“That sucks.” Frank sounds like he actually means it, and Gerard finds himself reaching out, holding Frank’s free hand. “I’d never thought about it.” He runs his finger over the palm of Gerard’s hand. “Does that mean we can’t be together in public either?”

“I guess.” It’s not something Gerard’s really let himself consider until now, but it’s the truth and he braces himself for Frank’s reaction, for Frank to pull away. “Sorry.” 

“Hey.” Instead of pulling away Frank squeezes his hand so hard that Gerard can almost feel the bones grind together. “We’ll make this work, Gee.”

“For the moment.” Gerard wants to believe him, but there’s no way that this can work long term, and he’s painfully aware of the edge to his voice, the brokenness that lets Frank see too much of what he’d prefer to keep private. “How much longer are you gonna want a boyfriend who you can’t go out in public with? Who you can’t even go to a club with?”

He looks at Frank then, see the way he scrunches his mouth up, and Gerard feels his heart sink. But then Frank smiles, wide and open and _happy_. 

“Boyfriend,” he says, poking Gerard in the ribs. “You said you were my boyfriend.”

It surprises a laugh from Gerard. “That’s what you got from all that?” he asks. “That I’m your boyfriend?”

“It’s the only thing that matters,” Frank says, conviction behind every word. “We can deal with the rest if you’re willing to give us a chance. Hell, you’ve made it work with Mikey, and you were facing way worse things with him.”

“And what about going out? Playing in public?” Gerard can’t believe it can be this easy, that Frank can’t see the problems they’ll have. 

“Maybe we don’t need to,” Frank says. “Maybe we’ll go out to other places, other cities.” He tips Gerard’s face up so he can look him in the eyes. “Maybe we’ll go out here and tell people to mind their own fucking business if they ask.” He kisses Gerard gently on the mouth. “We’re not doing anything illegal and we’re all consenting adults. I don’t give a shit what anyone else has to say if you and Mikey are happy.” 

He has his fighting face on, the one that won’t back down for anything and it makes a knot of tension that Gerard hadn’t even been aware he was carrying start to relax. 

“Okay,” he says at last. “Yeah.” And he believes it as he says it – that there might be a chance they can do this, that everything won’t just collapse leaving him alone in a house that’s too full of memories and ghosts for him to ever get over. 

“Too damn right,” Frank says. “Boyfriend.”

He gets up, pulls Gerard after him and manhandles him into the house. 

“Don’t know why I’m rewarding you for having such stupid ideas,” he says, “but I’m gonna make you lunch for a change.”

It makes Gerard smile, and he perches on a stool in the kitchen as Frank starts pulling ingredients out of the cupboards. 

“What you gonna make me?” he asks. “Cuz I expect something special after all the lunches I’ve made you.”

“Was gonna make pancakes.” Frank grins in triumph at the expression on Gerard’s face. “You know, if you think you can stomach them.”

Gerard just snorts. He can always manage a pancake, and Frank knows this. 

He’s feeling shaky though, the hangover of emotions running through his body, and he waits until Frank is whisking the batter before going to get his laptop back out of the garage. It’s not safe there, and it’s a distraction, something he can look at when looking at Frank gets too much, when it makes his breath catch and his stomach flip. 

“Let me see,” Frank says as he puts a plate down in front of Gerard and hooks a stool over with his foot so he can sit next to him. 

He’s already turning the laptop so he can see the screen, and Gerard lets him. It’s easier to eat pancakes than to fight for it, he learnt that in the first few days of Frank living there. Besides, Frank makes good pancakes. 

“That’s pretty.” Frank angles the laptop so they can both see it, and Gerard is being good here, so he says nothing about the smudge of syrup that Frank’s left on the keyboard. “You gonna get it for Mikey?”

“Yeah.” Gerard nods at the screen and the confection of lace and silk that’s on it. “I thought it would be good to put some things in the drawers when we give him the vanity, you know?” 

“Good idea.” Frank smiles around a mouthful of pancake. “And it gives him something to play with while he’s exploring the gender thing as well.” He swallows, looks at Gerard shrewdly. “What else are you going to get him?”

“Got things open in the tabs,” Gerard says. “If you want to check.”

Frank nods and starts flicking through the tabs, through the pages of lingerie and shoes and makeup and dresses that Gerard had thought Mikey might like. He makes approving noises occasionally, disagrees vehemently over a pair of red stiletto heels that he doesn’t think would suit Mikey _at all_ , and Gerard’s not sure why he’s surprised that Frank’s contributing so enthusiastically, so non-judgmentally, but he _is_ , and it’s a good surprise, the sort of moment that reminds him how fucking lucky he is, how lucky Mikey is to have found Frank. 

He’s caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice when Frank falls silent, his eyes wide and fixed on the screen in front of him, and when he does notice it takes him a second to realize what Frank’s looking at. 

“That…” Frank’s voice is very careful. “That wouldn’t suit Mikey’s coloring.”

He’s looking at a pair of white lace briefs, deceptively simple and beautiful. They sit low on the model’s hips; on a man they would be obscene. And no, they’re not Mikey’s color at all – but Gerard hadn’t been thinking of Mikey when he saw them. 

“No,” he says, equally careful. “That… isn’t for him.” 

Frank swallows, the noise disproportionately loud. 

“Who are they for?” he asks, and if Gerard didn’t know better he would think Frank looked scared. 

“I thought…” He stops, swallows around the dryness in his throat. “I thought they’d set your tattoos off, Frankie.” 

“Yeah?” There’s no disguising it, Frank does sound scared and Gerard puts his hand flat on the small of his back, gentle and comforting. 

“Yeah,” he says, because they will – if Frank’s willing to wear them. “I think you’d look beautiful in them.” 

Frank swallows again, his eyes falling shut, and Gerard brushes a kiss to his cheek as he leans across to close the laptop. 

“I’m not gonna make you do anything,” he says. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“And if I do?” Frank’s cheeks are crimson, but when he opens his eyes they’re full of bravery and desire. 

“Then we’ll do it together,” Gerard says. “I’ll get Mikey to show you. I won’t let anything hurt you, Frank.” 

He’s cupping Frank’s face in his hand now, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to lean in and kiss him, but he doesn’t. He sits there, as still as he can be, looking at Frank until Frank nods. 

“We’ll see,” Frank says, but it sounds more like a promise and it makes Gerard smile. “Now…” He stands up, shakes himself, and Gerard can see him putting the pieces of himself back together. “You need some help painting Mikey’s room?” 

Gerard’s not about to say no to that, and he nods, letting Frank take the lead until they get to Mikey’s room and he can tell him what needs to be done. 

They spend the rest of the afternoon painting together, only managing to get themselves mostly clean in time for Mikey to come home by sharing a shower – a strategy which has certain flaws that Gerard discovers as Frank sinks to his knees, shampoo horns on his head and a wicked smile curving his lips.

Gerard thinks Mikey might catch on when he gets in late from work and their hair is still wet, but he just flops down at Frank’s feet and pushes his head into Frank’s hand, silently demanding pets.

“Tough day?” Frank asks and Mikey groans. 

“I work with idiots and children,” he says, heartfelt, wrapping an arm around Frank’s calf. “And this project is trying to kill me.”

“That bad?” Gerard asks, and Mikey shrugs. 

“Not done anything like this before,” he says. “And everyone’s so busy I don’t want to keep asking questions.”

“What about your boss?” Frank asks.

“She’s doing her best, but the reason she gave this to me was that she has other things she needs to concentrate on.” Mikey’s eyes are closed and he already looks more relaxed than he did when he walked through the door. “The manager gave _me_ this project, and I just don’t want to let either of them down, you know?”

“You won’t,” Gerard says, and it makes Mikey smile, even if it is a very tired smile. “Can we do anything?” 

Mikey hums, thinking about it. “Dinner?” he says. “An early night? I got a big meeting tomorrow. There’s a senior manager in from out of town tomorrow morning, and he’s meeting with me first thing to look at the draft I’ve been working on.” His face screws up. “I’ve no idea what he’s going to think of it.”

“We can do that,” Gerard says, getting up to make some dinner. “Your room’s not ready yet, though. We’ll have to use mine still.”

“s’fine,” Mikey says, his voice starting to drift as Frank digs his thumbs into the tense muscles at the bottom of his neck. “So long as I have both of you.” 

“Course you do,” Frank tells him. “Hey, did you know we’re boyfriends now?” 

“About time,” Mikey says, and Gerard is still grinning as he starts cooking. 

Even with Mikey stressed from work, it’s a good evening – one that leaves Gerard feeling happy as he’s going to bed, even if he’s managed to somehow lose his sketchpad. Everything else seems less important than Mikey pressing into his arms and Frank’s fingers around his wrist, everything else can wait. 

—

The meeting with the senior manager starts late then overruns. Gerard knows because he’s been texting Mikey almost all day. 

Usually Mikey is fairly quick to respond, but today he’s distracted, only managing short responses that stop altogether mid-morning when Gerard presumes the manager actually turns up. 

“I don’t know,” Mikey says later when Gerard asks him how it went. “He had lots of questions and suggestions. And questions.” He sighs and Gerard listens to the crackle of static on the phone line. “He wants me to present it.”

“But that’s good?” 

“Maybe?” Mikey sounds dubious. “It’s a big contract.”

The front door bangs as Frank comes in, and Gerard waves to him gesturing at the phone.

_Mikey?_ Frank mouths and Gerard nods. Frank’s mouth twists – Mikey is usually home before him – and comes over to perch on Gerard’s knee. 

“You can do it,” Gerard says, taking his hand off the speaker so he can talk to Mikey again. “We’ll help you prepare. Me and Frank. We’re here for you.”

“God.” Mikey sounds exhausted. “That would be great, but all I want right now is to get home and not be human for a bit.”

“We can do that,” Gerard says, raising an eyebrow at Frank. “You get home and we’ll take care of the rest, Mikes.” 

Mikey’s silent for a second, then he says “Yeah”, low and eager and Gerard smiles. 

“Come home, Mikey,” Gerard says. “We’ll be here.”

“We love you,” Frank says, pushing his head next to Gerard’s so he can talk into the phone. “Come home, baby.”

“Twenty minutes,” Mikey says, then there’s the silence of a cut line and nothing except for Frank’s breath on his cheek. 

“Twenty minutes,” Frank says and cups his hand around Gerard’s bicep, his thumb tracing over the muscle. “So much time.”

“I should make dinner.” The argument is weak and Gerard knows it. Frank is warm and heavy in his arms and Gerard doesn’t want to push him away. 

“Still got time,” Frank says, tipping Gerard’s face up, his fingers gentle on Gerard’s jaw. “Can just do some pasta or something. Only needs to be simple.” 

“Yeah.” Frank’s skin still smells faintly of his cologne, slightly of sweat, more strongly of engine oil and Gerard can’t think of anything else. “But…”

“Gonna be focused on Mikey all evening,” Frank says. “He needs us.” He runs the pads of his fingers over Gerard’s lips. “Gimme ten minutes now?” 

His first kiss is gentle – not tentative, but not demanding either. It’s just the lightest skim of his lips over Gerard’s, the tickle of his breath as he sighs. It leaves Gerard straining forward, chasing his lips and Frank lets him strain for a few long seconds before he moves close enough that Gerard can kiss him properly, can bite at his lips until Frank is moaning into his mouth, his hands still holding Gerard’s face, his body heavy against Gerard’s. 

Ten minutes isn’t long – it’s not long enough for them to get off. But it is long enough that Gerard’s lips are swollen, that he’s kiss-drunk when they pull apart. 

“Dinner,” he says, in a voice that doesn’t sound like his own, but when Frank drops his head so their foreheads are resting against each other he slides his palms down Frank’s back and pulls him closer, revelling in the touch. 

“Yeah.” Frank’s staring at him, his eyes wide and dark and he’s not trying to hide how he feels. “Dinner. Just…” He leans in and kisses Gerard again, sweet and true and lingering and Gerard wonders what he’s trying to say here. 

He has enough time, in the end, to pull together a simple sauce and put the water on to boil before Mikey gets home. 

They haven’t discussed what they’ll do, but when Frank takes his wrist at the sound of Mikey’s key in the door, Gerard lets him lead him to meet him. 

He stands behind Frank, his fingers on Frank’s waist, as Mikey comes in. He’s looking tired, tireder than Gerard’s seen him in a long while, but still… he’s not broken, not beaten down. Not high. 

He’s himself – under stress, worrying and anxious, but _managing_ , and Gerard is so grateful that he’s breathless with it. He tightens his hold on Frank, desperate to keep upright, to be the man Mikey needs him to be, and Frank covers his hand with his own and presses down so that Gerard’s trapped, can’t go anywhere. Doesn’t want to. 

Frank waits until the door clicks closed behind Mikey, until Mikey’s dropped the satchel with his work laptop in it by the door.

“Strip,” he says, and Mikey’s eyes snap up to his face. He swallows, but he doesn’t say anything. His hands are shaking slightly as he reaches for the knot of his tie. 

Gerard’s mouth is dry as Mikey pulls his tie off and holds it out in front of him, lets it drop like a dare onto the floor at his feet. 

“Jacket,” Frank says, and Mikey shrugs his jacket off, lets it pool, forgotten, at his feet. 

Frank leaves it there, but Mikey breathes, shuddering, and starts to unbutton his shirt, slowly, deliberately, letting it slide off his shoulders as soon as there’s enough give, as Frank and Gerard watch. 

He toes his shoes off after that, balances – ungainly – on one leg, then the other as he pulls his socks off and flicks them in the direction of the wall. He undoes his belt and pulls it free, the leather sliding through the loops unnecessarily, until he can drop it on top of his tie, his eyes bold and brave. 

“Pants,” Frank says, like he’s trying to reclaim control here, but his voice cracks on the word and Gerard can feel the tension in his limbs. 

Mikey just raises an eyebrow and starts to unbutton his pants, his eyes tracking their reactions. 

He lets his pants fall around his thighs, shimmying so they fall around his ankles before he steps out of them. He steps forward, holding his arms out, vulnerable and not hiding from it, and he finally drops his head, sinking onto his knees in front of them. 

Frank exhales, relaxes. 

“Heel,” he says, and Mikey obeys, follows him when Frank turns and walks to the kitchen, steering Gerard ahead of him. 

It’s Frank who pulls the bowl out of the cupboard, who puts it on the work surface next to the plates, and who puts Mikey’s plate back on the drying rack. He nods to Gerard, but while his chin juts up, his eyes are warm, understanding. 

Gerard tips the pasta into the boiling water, hissing when it splashes his hand. It’s fresh pasta, will only take a few minutes, and he concentrates on the pan, very aware of Frank at his shoulder and Mikey at their feet. 

Frank moves Mikey back just before the pasta’s done, before Gerard can even ask, and Gerard drains it into the sink. He walks back to the stove and mixes it with the sauce and picks up the serving spoon in a shaking hand. He serves Frank first, then puts Mikey’s meal into his dog bowl. 

“Put yours out,” Frank says, and there’s something in his tone that doesn’t brook any argument so Gerard does, his eyes fixed on the plate. 

“Good.” Frank reaches for the bowl and holds it in his hand, Mikey’s eyes tracking the movement. “Now put our plates on the table.” 

He watches as Gerard carries the plates to the table then bends down and puts the bowl on the floor just outside of Mikey’s reach. 

“Wait,” he says and walks across to the table and sits down next to Gerard. He picks his fork up and takes a piece of pasta, closing his eyes as he chews it. “This is great, Gee. Thanks.” He takes another forkful and turns to look at Mikey. “You can eat now, boy.”

Mikey blinks and looks at the bowl, licking his lips and darting his eyes back to Frank.

“Go on,” Frank says and Mikey bends down and starts eating from the bowl, loud and messy and utterly beautiful. 

It should be awkward, eating dinner with Frank while Mikey crouches naked at their feet eating from the bowl, but it isn’t. Frank asks him about the comic he’s been plotting out, and it doesn't feel like a forced question – Frank sounds interested and engaged and Gerard finds himself responding, even though he’s very aware of what Mikey’s doing. 

By the time the meal ends, he’s properly relaxed and is kind of shocked when Frank bends down to tousle Mikey’s hair. 

“Who’s a mucky pup?” he asks and Mikey whines in response. “What d’you think, Gee? Isn’t she mucky?” He wipes a smudge of sauce off Mikey’s nose. “We should give her a bath.”

“Yeah.” Gerard’s voice cracks and he clears his throat, tries again. “Yes. We should.” 

“Cool.” Frank looks at him, steady and open. “Go up and run a bath for her.” 

The words are clearly an order, and Gerard swallows, nods. He starts to stand up, but Frank stops him, his fingers gentle on Gerard’s wrist. 

“There’s bubblebath in my room,” he says. “In the top drawer of my dresser. Use that. There’s a pink towel in the same drawer. Put it on the radiator. Make sure the water’s warm, but that she can step straight into it without burning herself.” He pauses, looks at Gerard. “You got all that?” 

It’s a tone he doesn’t use on Gerard – that Gerard’s only heard him use on Mikey before – and there’s a part of Gerard that wants to fight this. But then he looks down at Mikey and remembers that this isn’t about him, and he nods. 

“Yes,” he says and waits a long beat, raising his eyebrow in what he hopes is elegant and aloof manner. “Sir.” 

It makes Frank’s face crack into a genuine smile, but he catches himself, committed to the part he’s playing for Mikey. 

“Good.” He stares at Gerard, licks his lips. “If you’re that cocky you won’t make any mistakes then, will you?” 

He’s daring him to make a mistake, to give him an excuse to punish him, and Gerard pushes his hip out, trying to exclude confidence, superciliousness. 

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he says, turning and sauntering to the door. “Won’t you?” 

It’s an easy enough set of commands to obey, and Gerard does, confining his rebellion to the things that Frank _didn’t_ specify. He leaves the drawer open, a second towel hanging out of it in a messy sprawl that will drive Frank mad. He puts the space heater on to warm the bathroom because he doesn’t want Mikey to get cold, but he uses almost all the bubblebath left in the bottle and the bath foams into an alarming mountain that reaches up towards the ceiling. 

All in all he thinks he’s managed a good balance and when Frank leads a crawling Mikey into the bathroom on his leash, Gerard is sat, cross-legged and insouciant, on the closed toilet, striking a pose as if he was an Aubrey Beardsley sketch. 

“Really?” Frank shakes his head, mock disappointed. “Oh, Gee. If I didn’t have to look after our girl right now…” 

“But you do.” Gerard smirks, as committed to his role now as Frank is to his. He looks down at Mikey, and the small, secret smile on Mikey’s face and he goes to his knees in front of him. “You ready for your bath, baby?” He strokes Mikey’s cheek, smiles at him. “I made lots of bubbles for you to play in.” 

That makes Mikey giggle, and Frank sighs and leans over to spank him sharply. 

“Mikey?” he says, his voice a warning, and Mikey looks up at him, a smile still on his lips and he barks, high and loud in the confines of the bathroom. 

It sets the tone for the bath. Mikey is a million miles from the tired man who walked through the front door less than an hour ago – now he’s chasing bubbles, snapping at them, splashing Frank and Gerard, partly by accident, partly because he’s aiming for them. He’s barking and laughing, and when Frank grabs a sponge and rubs it over his back, he tries to squirm into the touch even as he wriggles away from it. 

“Naughty puppy,” Gerard says, smacking his nose lightly. “Bad girl.” 

He reaches around and takes hold of the scruff of Mikey’s neck, and it’s only that that makes Mikey still so that Frank can wash him properly, make him a mess of soap suds before he rinses him clean. 

It’s Gerard who washes his hair though, taking his time massaging the shampoo into his scalp, taking care that it doesn’t splash into his eyes when he washes it out. 

“There,” he says, when the water’s running clear. “All done. You’re squeaky clean, baby.” 

Mikey yips, calmer now, and he lets Frank pull him out of the bath and wrap him in the towel, start to rub him dry. 

“We should dry your hair,” Frank says, and Mikey scowls. Apparently the care of his hair outweighs any game he’s playing. 

Frank doesn’t give him much choice though, and he’s surprisingly good at drying Mikey’s hair. Gerard can see the difference, and Mikey certainly can, but it’s good enough for an evening at home, and at least it’s dry and Mikey is recognisable. Honestly, if Gerard had been given the chance to dry Mikey’s hair, he’d have done much worse. 

Mikey’s happy with it, or if not happy, he’s at least willing to let it ride until the morning. He follows them back downstairs on all fours and when Frank clicks the TV onto Netflix, he whines until they make space for him and he crawls onto their knees. 

Frank tangles his fingers in his hair as Gerard reaches for a blanket to pull over him and they watch the movie together, their hands linked on Mikey’s side, Mikey’s warm snuffling breaths muffled in their t-shirts and jeans. Mikey’s almost asleep when it finishes, and Gerard has to almost carry him to bed as Frank turns off the lights behind him, all pretence of Mikey being a puppy at an end for the night. 

Gerard tucks Mikey in first, then he strips, quickly and gracelessly, only pausing when he turns his head and sees that Frank’s standing in the door, watching him with dark eyes. He shrugs, not sure what to say but Frank just smiles, pulls his own t-shirt off and drops it, very deliberately, on top of the pile of Gerard’s clothes. 

He pushes Gerard in front of him towards the bed as he peels off his jeans, then he climbs in after Gerard, climbing over Mikey so they bracket him together. 

Mikey sighs, warm against Gerard’s chest, and for a second Gerard thinks they’ll just fall asleep, but then Frank kisses the back of Mikey’s neck, meets Gerard’s eyes over the top of Mikey’s shoulder, and Gerard’s breath catches. 

They take turns fucking him. Frank sliding into him first, fucking into him until he’s breathless, before he pulls out, still hard, desperate now. But he pushes Mikey towards Gerard, and Gerard can’t be good here, can’t be the better person. He wants Mikey too much – he wants _this_ too much. So he slicks himself up and pushes into Mikey, feels how he gasps and shudders, and he fucks him until he can barely hold back and then he pulls out, puts his hand on Mikey’s chest and pushes him back towards Frank. 

“Your turn,” he says, and Mikey groans, low and desperate, and Gerard kisses him, swallows the noises he makes as Frank pushes back into him. 

It means he’s closer to Mikey, so Mikey is able to rub against him as Frank fucks him. Mikey’s pliant and desperate and he takes exactly what they give him and no more than that, and it’s fucking beautiful. 

Gerard doesn’t need to ask Frank what he wants – he lets Mikey rub against him, lets Mikey smear the pre-come from his hard cock over his stomach, but he pulls away before Mikey can come, even though Mikey whines high in his throat and grabs for him, trying in vain to pull him back. 

When Frank pulls out without coming again, Mikey makes a beautiful, broken noise and presses into Gerard’s arms without prompting. This time it’s him who lines himself up, slides down on Gerard’s cock without being asked or prompted. 

“Please,” he says. “Gee… I need…”

He bites at Gerard’s lips, and when Gerard slides his hands to Mikey’s hips to pull him closer he finds that Frank’s there before him, Frank’s guiding Mikey’s hips and rhythm. 

“Mikey,” he says. “Frankie… I’m gonna come. I…”

His breath catches and he groans as Mikey clenches around him and he finally can’t hold back. He comes with Mikey tight around him and Frank’s fingers tight around his. 

Frank pets his arms as he comes down, as he’s pressed, sweaty and breathless, to Mikey. He waits just long enough that Gerard can cope when Frank pulls Mikey away from Gerard, before he rolls him on top of Gerard and pushes into his come-slick ass and fucks him, hard and fast, Mikey’s cock sliding against the smooth skin of Gerard’s stomach. 

“S’okay,” Frank pants, his voice tight. “You can come, Mikey.” And Mikey does come, shuddering against Gerard, and Frank closes his eyes, letting the sensations drive him over the edge. 

It should be easy to sleep after that – Frank and Mikey are sleepy, snuffling lumps in the bed and Gerard can feel that he's treading the edge of dreams himself. Still… he tightens his arm around Mikey, suddenly and desperately aware of how far Mikey’s come, that he’s here and relaxed and asked rather than drunk or high, hiding away from Gerard, like Gerard won’t notice, won’t care about his pain. 

Frank stirs in his sleep, puts his hand on Gerard’s waist, and Gerard lets his eyes close, grateful and sleepy and happy. 

—

It feels good to see the vanity done. They stand there in the garage looking at it, the smooth light lines of the wood, the graceful curve of its edges. 

All that needs doing now is to fill it full of the things they’ve ordered, the things that have been arriving in plain wrapped packages while Mikey’s been at work and that Gerard’s been squirrelling away at the back of his wardrobe, where he hopes Mikey never looks. 

“It’s beautiful,” he says, taking a step forward. “You’ve done such a good job on it, Frank.”

“Wait.” Frank catches his wrist before he can touch it. “The varnish is still tacky. It’ll need to dry overnight.”

“Right.” Gerard takes a step back feeling stupid. He should have realized that. “So… what do we do now?” 

Frank hums, considering. “We could pack up his stuff?” The suggestion is careful, like maybe he thinks it will upset Gerard, but it makes sense. 

“Yeah.” Gerard swallows, picturing Mikey’s stuff in his room, how blended it is with his own stuff, so Gerard can’t think of how to pick their lives apart, can only imagine all their things, tangled up together like they have been for the last five years. “We can start with your room, right?” 

It’s not like Frank’s room is the mysterious place it once was, but Gerard still doesn’t feel like he belongs there, and he pauses just inside the door while Frank pushes past him, cardboard boxes in hand. 

“How about I do this side, and you grab some of his clothes?” he asks, starting to pull open drawers and dig things out. 

“Yeah.” For some reason Gerard can’t move further into the room. He’s stuck at the door, his arms wrapped around himself, and he can’t seem to relax. “I mean… I guess.”

Frank looks up and blinks, his clever eyes taking everything in, and Gerard feels vulnerable, naked under his gaze. 

“How about I pass you things and you pack them?” he says at last, and it doesn’t sound like he’s patronising or judging despite the careful edge to his voice. It unsticks Gerard and he nods, manages to pick up one of the boxes and sit on the bed as Frank holds out a book in one hand, some jeans in the other. “Here.” 

It puts Gerard at his ease, and soon he’s crouched on the floor next to Frank, pulling out and packing clothes, books, comics. 

“He’s gonna have to get organised,” Frank says, and even though his back is turned, Gerard can hear the smile in his words. “His stuff’s _everywhere_.”

“Yeah.” There’s a box under the bed and Gerard has to double over to reach it. “I’m always picking up after him as well. I’ve no idea how he ever finds anything the way he…”

He breaks off, his train of thought completely derailed by the contents of the box. 

He’s not naive – he knows what sex toys are, hell he thought he owned an interesting range himself. Just… nothing quite like this.

“You okay?” Frank turns around, forehead slightly creased until he looks down, sees the length of small, silver clothes pins in Gerard’s hand, linked by a thin red cord. “Oh.” His cheeks color. “Yeah. Those are Mikey’s. You can put them in his room.” 

“Right.” Gerard lets the pins drop back into the box, trying not to imagine putting them on Mikey – or pulling them off. “Are they all his? Or do you need anything from it?”

Frank leans over him, pressing against Gerard’s side, a hot, heavy weight as he rummages through.

“Nope,” he says. “Mine are all in my toy chest.” He nudges Gerard with his shoulder. “Maybe we can look at them when we’re done here?” 

“Yeah.” They share a smile, small and almost embarrassed and Gerard has a moment where he’s dizzy with how new this all it – how much he wants it. 

“So.” Frank turns back to what he was doing – sorting out comics, Gerard notices. “Mikey doesn’t have toys in your room?”

“Not like this.” Gerard fondles the smooth leather of a glove, hissing when it turns out to have rows of tiny spikes running along the palm. “I mean…” He blushes. “He has some clothes, a few plugs…”

“Yeah?” Frank grins, friendly and lecherous. “Maybe we can look at those as well.”

Gerard grins, switches his attention back to the box. It’s like getting a glimpse of Mikey’s mind, looking at a box like this, at the gags and plugs and cockrings. At something that looks like a chastity cage. At dildos in a range of sizes and colors and…

“Um.” Gerard blinks at the toy in his hand. “Frank?” 

“Yeah?” Frank’s leafing through some comics, but he turns around at that, his eyes widening slightly when he sees what Gerard’s holding. “Oh.” His cheeks turn pink. “That.” 

“That.” Gerard agrees, looking at it. “What is it?” 

“Mikey’s favourite,” Frank says. “He fucking loves that thing. I, uh. Don’t let him have it much.” 

“He can take it?” Gerard sounds impressed despite himself, because it’s not that the dildo is long – it’s fairly standard as these things go – but it has a huge, swollen bulge about two thirds of the way down it, and combined with the red patterned glass it’s made from, it looks peculiarly organic and real. 

“So?” Mikey’s voice is a shock, tight and slightly defensive from the door, and when Gerard turns around he’s still wearing his suit from work, his arms wrapped around himself, his face as closed off as Gerard’s seen it in months. “Gonna tell me what a slut that makes me?” 

“No,” Gerard says, horrified that Mikey would even think that, but Frank’s across the room before the word’s barely out of his mouth.

“Yes,” he says, crowding into Mikey’s space, pinning him against the door frame so hard that Mikey gasps. “You’re a fucking slut, Mikeyway. A fucking cock-hungry, desperate slut who wants to be spread out on my bed right now, with my tongue in your ass and that dildo in my hand.” 

The defensiveness drops of out Mikey’s posture, like it had never even been there, and he lets Frank pin him.

“And suppose you’re right?” His voice is lower now, rougher, matching Frank’s aggression with his own desire. “Suppose I am a slut. What’re you gonna do about it, Frankie?”

Frank grins, wolfish and feral. “Gonna ask Gee to pin you to the bed,” he says, like he has the whole scenario mapped out in his head already. “Gonna lick you open. Gonna work that dildo into you. Gonna knot you like the slutty little bitch you are, baby.” He bites Mikey’s jaw, and Mikey’s breath catches. “You want that?” 

“Yes.” Mikey’s hands are tight on Frank’s waist now, and the tension in his voice is all excitement. “Yes. Do that.” 

Frank exhales, rough, and presses closer to Mikey, pushing their bodies together. “Gonna breed you so good,” he says, nuzzling at Mikey’s neck, the side of his face. “We both are.” 

Mikey takes a breath but before he can say anything, Frank is hustling him across the room, pushing him down on to the bed. 

“Gee?” he says, his voice rough. “Gonna need your help.”

“Yeah.” Gerard looks down at the toy in his hand, his mouth dry. “What do you want me to do?”

“Hold his wrists for me,” Frank says, and Gerard climbs onto the bed, kneels over Mikey’s head and wraps his hands around his wrists. 

“Hey.” He bends down, kisses Mikey’s forehead. “Love you.” 

“Yeah,” Mikey says, pushing up against Gerard’s hands, straining to push his face towards him. “I know. I didn’t mean… I’m s…”

“Enough talk,” Frank says, his voice stern even though Gerard can see his eyes glinting and he reaches out and undoes Mikey’s tie slowly and confidently, leaving it undone around his neck when he’s finished. “You be quiet unless you’re begging, Mikes.” 

He puts his hands on the top button of Mikey’s shirt, and for a second Gerard thinks he’s going to just rip it open but instead he starts to undo each button, his fingers deft and sure. 

It’s exactly the right thing to do, and by the time the shirt is unbuttoned Mikey’s breath is catching and Gerard can see the flush at the top of his chest. 

Frank can see it too, and he’s smiling, small and smug, as he scoots down the bed, pushing Mikey’s knees apart and reaching for his belt. 

“Think you’re ready?” he asks, and he waits for Mikey to nod before he yanks his pants down in one smooth movement and flips him over so he lands on his knees, his face in Gerard’s lap. “Gonna make you _beg_ , baby.”

He bends down, pushing the cheeks of Mikey’s ass apart, and Gerard, rearranging his grip on Mikey’s wrists, doesn’t miss the look in his eyes, the naked _want_. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and they both make wordless noises of approval as Frank leans in and licks over Mikey’s hole. 

It almost baffling to remember how new this still is, how recently this started, when it feels so familiar, so right. The noise Mikey makes as Frank eats him out, the sight of Frank’s tattooed fingers on Mikey’s pale skin, the filthy slick sounds of Frank’s mouth on Mikey’s ass… it’s like a punch to his libido, a hand around his heart, and he tightens his fingers on Mikey’s wrists until he’s sure he’s leaving bruises under the cuffs of Mikey’s shirt, until Mikey’s moaning. 

“Tell me,” Frank says when he finally pulls away, his mouth wet and pink. “Tell me you’re a slut, Mikey. Tell me you’re _my_ slut.” 

Mikey sucks in a breath that’s dangerously close to a sob. “Yours,” he says. “Your slut.” 

“Good girl.” Frank smiles as he says it, and he runs his fingers over Mikey’s ass gently for a second, petting the skin, before lifting his hand and spanking Mikey twice, sharp and hard. “You want me to fuck you first? Or you want me to stretch you open with the toy?” 

“Fuck me,” Mikey says, and Gerard doesn’t think he’s imagining the honest desperation to his voice. “I want you in me, Frankie, I want you to come in me, I want…”

“Yeah,” Frank says. “Yeah, Mikey. Just…” He kneels up properly and unzips his jeans, shoving them roughly down his thighs. “Where’s the lube?” 

“Here.” Gerard lets go of Mikey’s wrists, rests the fingers of one hand on the back of Mikey’s neck and leans over to rummage in Frank’s bedside table. 

He’s seen Frank pull lube out of the drawer before and doesn’t think anything of it, and it’s only when he’s found the lube under a sheaf of papers and is starting to lean back that he realizes what the papers are. They’re his sketches – ones he’s handed Frank, ones he’s had go missing – only now their edges are soft, as if they’ve been held, looked at, over and over. 

He looks up, sees Frank looking at him, his lip between his teeth, but his eyes unapologetic, and he swallows, chooses not to say anything. He holds the lube out to Frank, shivers when their fingers brush and Frank holds the touch a few seconds too long. 

But Mikey is still pliant and desperate in his lap, and he’s making the sweetest little noises and Frank’s eyes snap back to him as he moves. 

For a second Gerard wonders if he should be jealous, but there’s nothing in his stomach, his heart except excitement, acceptance. He shifts back, his finger still loosely tangled in the hairs at the nape of Mikey’s neck and takes hold of Mikey’s hand. This time they interlink their fingers, and as Frank pushes inside Gerard feels how Mikey squeezes his hand right, how he fastens his teeth on Gerard’s thigh to stifle the noises he’s making in Gerard’s denim and skin. 

“Fuck,” Frank says, and Gerard can see the tension thrumming through Frank’s body, can hear it in his voice. “You feel so good, Mikey. Gonna mess you up so bad.” 

He’s thrusting hard, barely giving Mikey time to adapt to it, but Mikey just groans and takes it, and Gerard can’t tell if the groans are pleasure or pain – or a combination of both. He can see Frank’s hands on Mikey’s hips, how he’s pushing him down, how he’s angling each thrust so it catches Mikey’s prostate. 

And Mikey is sensitive to that, is a slut for that, Gerard knows, and even though Gerard can’t see from here, he knows Mikey’s hard, that the tip of his cock is wet with pre-come and that he could come like this if Frank would let him. 

Mikey knows better than to expect that though, and even if he’s mouthing nonsense words into Gerard’s thigh, he’s being careful to keep his hips high enough to stop his cock dragging against the sheets. 

“You’re so good,” Gerard tells him. “So fucking good, Mikey. I’m so proud of you.” 

He can feel the sweat beading at Mikey’s hairline, can feel Mikey’s damp breath against his thigh, but his eyes are drawn by Frank, and the sheer uninhibited pleasure on his face. He’s not holding back at all – he’s fucking Mikey so it feels good, so that he comes. There’s no finesse or technique, it’s just hard and fast and _good_ , and by now Gerard knows him well enough to know what he looks like before he comes, knows that he’s getting close now. 

“Look at you taking it,” Gerard says and the words come out as little more than a whisper. “Like you were fucking born to take his cock, like…”

“God.” Frank’s voice is harsh. “Fuck, Mikey… Gee…”

His hips snap forward, like he can’t stop himself, and he groans as he comes, his hands tight on Mikey’s hips.

He pulls out almost straight away, his cock still mostly hard, and he pulls Mikey down the bed, rolls him over and spreads his legs. 

“Hold him,” he says, still breathless from his orgasm, and Gerard complies, takes hold of Mikey’s hands, running his thumbs under the cuffs of Mikey’s shirt so he can pet the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of his wrists. 

It makes Frank smile, small and satisfied, but Gerard only gets a glimpse of the expression before Frank’s looking up at him, his eyebrow raised. 

“Got the toy?” he asks, and it takes Gerard a second to realize what he’s talking about. When he does, he has to let go of one of Mikey’s wrists and dig around until he finds it. He holds it out to Frank, swallowing around a lump of feelings that he can’t name that seems to have lodged in his throat. 

Frank looks at him, quizzical as he takes the toy, but Gerard shakes his head. This isn’t about him now, and Frank seems to get that. He smiles at Gerard instead, his eyes warm, and pushes Mikey’s legs wider. 

“Ready?” he asks, and Mikey nods, his lip caught between his teeth. 

Gerard can barely see anything from where he is. Mikey’s cradled against him though, and he can feel how Mikey is moving, can hear the little frustrated noises that Mikey is making as Frank starts to use the toy to work him open. Frank is concentrating as well – Gerard knows the slight furrow to his brow, the way his mouth twists into a frown that might be forbidding if you didn’t know him. They’re beautiful together, and Gerard tightens his hold on Mikey. 

“How does it feel?” he asks, and Mikey gasps. 

“’S’cold.” He turns his head so his words are muffled by the skin at the base of Gerard’s throat. “And it’s so hard, Gee. I can feel the knot pushing against me.” His breath stutters. “It’s so big.” 

He groans, and Gerard looks down, catches the look on Frank’s face and knows he’s shifted his wrist so the toy is deliberately catching Mikey’s prostate with every move it makes. It’s a move designed to take Mikey apart, and it’s working. Mikey is straining harder now against Gerard’s hold, and his erection is bouncing against his stomach, so hard it must be painful. 

“God.” Gerard presses a kiss to Mikey’s sweat-damp hair. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Mikes.” 

Mikey makes a desperate, wordless noise in response and shifts his hips, trying to push the dildo deeper, to fuck the knot into himself. 

“Frank.” His voice is all sorts of needy, and Gerard is very aware of how hard he is in his jeans. “Let me come? I need to come.”

Frank hums. “What’s the magic word?” he asks, like a maiden aunt handing out sweets on a Sunday afternoon, and Mikey sobs. 

“Please,” he says. “Please, Frankie. Please.” 

“You sure?” Frank’s voice is rough. “Cuz I’m gonna keep fucking you even if you do.” He looks down at Mikey, intense and stern. “Gonna fuck you like you’re knotted. You sure you wanna come now, Mikey? You really sure?” 

Mikey shakes his head and Frank smiles. “Didn’t think so,” he says and bends back to what he was doing. 

But Mikey is close, so very close, and even if he wants to hold off, there’s only so much he can take. When Frank finally stretches him wide enough that the knot starts to slip inside him, he arches off the bed with a broken, animal sound, and comes, streaking his shirt, his tie. 

“Good boy,” Frank says. “So good.” But he doesn’t stop – he pushes the toy deeper. Gerard feels the tension tight in Mikey’s body as the knot slips fully into him, huge and hard. 

“God,” Gerard says again, his voice hushed, because despite what Frank had said he thought he’d slow down, would give Mikey some space. But he doesn’t. He keeps working the toy in Mikey, relentless, as Mikey writhes and sobs. 

It’s clearly too much, but Mikey doesn’t say stop, doesn’t safeword, so Gerard keeps holding him, keeps his mouth shut, does nothing but hiss when Frank kneels up so he has a hand free, so he can wrap it around Mikey’s semi-hard cock and start jerking him off. 

If Gerard was a better person he wouldn’t be getting off at the noises Mikey makes at this – a combination of pain and desire and despair. But he’s not a better person, and he’s so hard it hurts. 

His mouth is dry and his heart is pounding, and he doesn’t think Mikey can come again, but he does, falling apart and sobbing while Frank strokes him through it, strokes him until he’s fully soft and his sobs have broken into something closer to real tears. 

When Frank lets go of him, Mikey rolls over, not seeming to care about the toy still deep in his ass, just wanting to wrap himself in Gerard’s arms. 

It means he’s pressed close to Gerard, his face hidden in Gerard’s neck, when Frank kneels behind him and starts to pull the toy free. 

“Shhhhh,” Frank says, and Gerard shifts his arms around Mikey, holds him still as Frank eases the toy out of him and tosses it to one side. “You did so well, baby.”

He moulds himself to Mikey’s back, kissing the parts of his face he can reach, and when Gerard topples them all to the bed, he goes with the movement until he and Gerard are cradling Mikey between them, stroking and kissing him as he comes back to himself. 

It’s stupidly comfortable like this, even with Gerard and Frank fully dressed and Mikey a pliant mess in his work shirt and tie, and Gerard could breath through what he’s feeling and fall asleep, but Mikey shifts, brushes against Gerard’s cock, and Gerard can’t help it – he moans. 

“Fuck.” Frank’s eyes snap open and he reaches out, cups Gerard’s cock. “You’re so fucking hard.”

He’s rubbing Gerard through his jeans, like he doesn’t notice that he’s doing it, and Gerard lets his eyes flutter shut and bucks his hips into Frank’s touch. 

“Please,” he says, and Frank grins. 

“Please what?” Frank asks, and Mikey’s watching him with wide, interested eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want to give me,” Gerard says, his voice stuttering. 

Frank makes a pleased noise. “Mikey?” His voice is dripping with barely suppressed mischief. “Go get the weighted nipple clamps and your second favourite dildo.” 

“The…” Mikey’s eyes widen, but Frank cuts him off. 

“Yes.” He smiles at Gerard. “I think it’s time we turn the tables on your brother.” 

He presses Gerard into the bed as soon as Mikey gets up, pushing Gerard’s legs apart, his full weight on Gerard’s wrists and inner thighs. He’s being very careful to keep himself suspended, though, so there’s nothing for Gerard to push against, no way he can ease the pressure coiling low in his belly. 

“You teasing me?” Gerard asks, and he’d hate how breathless he sounds, but it makes Frank’s eyes flash dark and he can’t hate that. 

“Whatever I want, you said.” Frank is whispering into his ear and the puff of his breath against Gerard’s skin makes Gerard shiver. “You changing the rules now, Gee?” 

“No.” The word is small and it makes something hot and embarrassed squirm in Gerard’s chest. He tries to turn his face to hide it in the pillows, but that just leaves his neck open to the scrape of Frank’s teeth. 

“Good.” Gerard feels the word on his skin more than he hears it. Every inch of him feels oversensitive, shivery with anticipation. “Gonna make this good for you.” 

Frank bites again, harder now, hard enough to make Gerard gasp – to leave a mark high up on his neck – and Gerard bucks at the sensation, desperate for pressure, for friction, but Frank pulls away, kneels up. 

“Gonna help me strip him?” he asks and it’s only when Gerard feels the dip of the bed as Mikey sits down next to him, hears the clank of _things_ being put on the bedside table, that he realizes how much trouble he might be in here. 

Mikey’s fingers are cool as he pulls at Gerard’s t-shirt, and he kisses Gerard, fierce and hungry, as he pulls him up enough to get the shirt off. It’s dizzying, and almost distracts him from Frank undoing his belt, pulling his jeans off so that he’s naked in front of them. 

It’s not something he finds comfortable, being naked in front of people, and even though he trusts Mikey and Frank – loves them – he can feel his cheeks getting hot. It’s not as if this is even the first time, but usually everyone is naked, is clouded by their own desire, and he doesn’t feel exposed like this. This time though he’s aware of them looking, of the weight of their combined gaze, and when Frank reaches out and rests his hand on the soft white swell of Gerard’s stomach he moans, more in protest than desire, and twists his head until his face is hidden in Mikey’s thigh. 

“Whatever I want,” Frank says and skims his fingers up Gerard’s torso until he’s resting his brushing his thumbs over Gerard’s nipples. “I want you to look at me, Gee.” 

The request makes Gerard want to hide, to squirm away, but he promised so he takes a deep breath and looks up. 

“Good boy,” Frank says, and pinches, pulling at Gerard’s nipples until he’s hissing, trying to arch off the bed as Mikey puts his hands on his shoulders and pushes him back down. 

“Please,” Gerard says, even though he’s not sure what he’s asking for, but Frank just smiles at him. 

“Sure.” His smile turns wicked and he leans across Gerard to reach something from the bedside table. “Anything you want.” 

His smile is wide, captivating, and his eyes are dark, and Gerard can’t tear his eyes away from his face, so he misses the moment when Frank pulls his nipple taut and fastens a nipple clamp to it. 

It’s tight and sore, and just on the threshold of being too much, and Frank puts his hand on Gerard’s cheek, cupping it. 

“Breathe,” he says, and Gerard does, and it makes the sensation bearable, manageable. 

“Okay.” The word comes out shaky, but Frank just nods. 

“Another breath,” he says, and Gerard does as he’s told, breathes again as Frank pinches his other nipple, fastens the other clamp to it. 

“Good,” Frank says. “Good boy.” And he pulls the clamps free with no warning, twisting them as they come off and smiles as Gerard bucks underneath him. 

It hurts worse than having them put on, leaves Gerard’s nipples feeling swollen and sensitive, and this time when Frank puts one of the clamps back on, it hurts so much worse – enough that Gerard makes a broken noise, swears as Frank snaps the other one in place. 

“Please,” he says again, and Frank smiles, flicks both clamps at the same time and watches, like he’s trying to learn the expression on Gerard’s face. 

“Turn over,” Frank says and Gerard has to bully his shaking limbs into complying. 

He only realizes when he gets halfway over that the clamps have weights, and as he manages to push himself onto all fours the weights hang underneath him, dangling and moving with each slight shift of his body, pulling at his nipples until they’re all he can think about. 

It distracts him, takes the whole of his concentration, and he loses track of Frank and Mikey, forgets about anything other than the pressure and pull of his chest and Frank’s fingers, slick and cool with lube, come as a shock when he traces them over Gerard’s hole. 

He’s not pushing inside, just getting Gerard filthy and slick and Gerard can barely think about it, not when the weights are moving each time he squirms, pulling heavy at him, distracting him from how he must look to Frank right now. 

The first cold press of a toy to his ass makes him start, but it’s slim, smooth, and the movement has jolted the clamps again and he has to breathe through the sensation so he almost misses the moment Frank starts to slide it inside him. 

It isn’t something he can ignore for long though – the toy widens, fast, and Gerard’s breath catches when he realizes that it’s not a dildo, it’s a plug. It starts stretching him as Frank pushes it in, steady and slow, and Gerard tries to concentrate on his breathing, on Frank’s fingers resting on his hip so that he can cope. 

“Fuck,” Frank says when the plug is finally fully in. “Your skin’s so white.” He traces his fingers from one side of Gerard’s hips to the other, catching on the plug as they go, and Gerard makes a tiny, wordless noise and drops his torso so he can hide his face in his crossed arms. It makes the weights jerk, and he can’t help it – he raises up again, hissing as the weights swing. 

“No.” Frank slaps him, open handed and shocking on the swell of his ass. “Stay still for me.” He runs his hand over the skin he slapped, maybe waiting for Gerard to tell him to stop, but Gerard _doesn’t_ and after a second Frank slaps him again, twice, and Gerard knows his skin will be going pink already. 

He hasn’t been spanked in years – even before Mikey it wasn’t something he did – but he shifts again, pressing back towards Frank, pushing his ass out, and Frank hums.

“Hold onto the headboard,” he says and it takes Gerard a few seconds to even understand that Frank’s talking to him, even longer for him to comply. 

When he does, Mikey scootches down the bed and takes the head of Gerard’s cock in his mouth and Gerard is so close, his hips buck almost unconsciously.

“Don’t come,” Frank warns him and Gerard grits his teeth against the sensation as Frank spanks him again, forcing his hips forward, pushing his cock further into the hot wet suction of Mikey’s mouth. 

Gerard isn’t a fool and he knows Frank is holding back, not hitting him as hard as he can – probably not hitting him as hard as he wants to. He thinks maybe he should tell Frank to hit harder, to let himself go, but the sensation is layering and although the slaps aren’t as heavy as they could be, they’re relentless, landing hypnotically to a rhythm that only Frank can hear and Gerard’s skin is hot now, the sting of it settling somewhere deep inside him and he’s doing his very best not to squirm under them. 

He holds on through it, does as he was told and tries not to move, tries not to come as Frank and Mikey keep up their assault. He can’t hold back the noises though, and they spill from his lips unbidden, a string of nonsense words and pleas and noises that he’d be embarrassed about if he had a moment to process what’s happening. 

But he doesn’t, and everything else fades in importance. It doesn’t even seem to matter how turned on he is now, that he’s a mess of nerve endings and pleasure, he’s taking what he’s given, and he’s so close to falling apart with it. 

When Frank does stop, Gerard sobs, and Frank presses close to him, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against Gerard’s sore, inflamed skin, pushing the plug deeper.

“Shhhh,” Frank says and reaches around so he’s holding the weights, stopping their fucking relentless swinging. “S’okay, Gee. You can come now.”

Gerard sobs again, at the feeling of Frank against him, and the sensation of Mikey’s mouth on his cock and he could come from this if he had a second to get his head together, but Frank doesn’t let him. He tugs the nipple clamps free and drops them to the bed, pinching Gerard’s nipples hard, and it shocks the orgasm from Gerard – a twisted up mix of pleasure and pain that has him sobbing, open-mouthed as he spills, hot and endless, into Mikey’s mouth. 

He slumps down on the bed afterwards, pressed between them both and lets them pet him, unselfconscious like he never usually gets. 

“You’re beautiful,” Frank says against the back of his neck, and part of Gerard still wants to tell him that he’s wrong, that it’s Mikey who got the lion’s share of the beauty, and that Gerard’s okay with that, but Frank sounds so sincere and Gerard is so warm and sated that he bites the words back and turns his head so he can kiss Frank’s wrist instead. 

—

It takes most of the day to get the final parts of Mikey’s room in place. It could’ve been quicker, but Frank can’t get the day off, and Gerard is surprised to find he misses him, which is ridiculous and kind of hilarious if Gerard stops to think about it too closely.

He doesn’t. He gets on with making the bed, hanging the curtains, tucking the gifts he ordered into the drawers of the vanity.

In the end, he’s fairly happy with how it looks, and even though it feels like the end of an era in a few too many ways, he’s pleased they’ve done it. Pleased for Mikey – pleased for _them_ and for the change it’ll allow them. 

That doesn’t mean he’s not feeling a bit low, though, and by the time Frank gets home, demob-happy like he always is on a Friday, Gerard is sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, waiting for him. 

“Babe.” Frank, bless him, understands straight away, and he walks up to Gerard, steps between his thighs and holds him. “S’gonna be okay. You’re doing the right thing.” 

He kisses Gerard’s forehead, lets his fingers linger in Gerard’s hair, gently petting him until Gerard feels calmer, until he relaxes into Frank’s embrace and presses his face to Frank’s belly, warm and soft through his t-shirt. 

“He’s gonna love the room,” Gerard says, the words quiet and muffled. “He’s gonna move into it and he’s not gonna need me any more.” 

“Oh, Gee.” Frank sounds faintly amused, but it’s hidden behind a layer of genuine concern. “He’ll always want you – he’s _Mikey_.” 

It’s an interesting choice of words, and in Frank’s arms, Gerard can admit he’s right, much as he’s loath to do so. 

To be fair to Frank, he doesn’t ask Gerard to say anything. He just holds him until Gerard’s feeling better, until it’s Gerard that pulls away. 

“Okay,” he says, and they both pretend they can’t hear his voice shaking. “I’m okay now.”

“You sure?” Frank tips his face up. “Cuz Mikey’s gonna be home soon, and you can’t let him see you’re worried about this.” 

“Yeah.” Gerard pulls Frank’s t-shirt straight, so he can’t see the imprint of his face in it any more. “I’m fine.” 

Frank looks skeptically at him, but he tips Gerard’s face up and kisses him instead of saying anything. 

“Hey.” Mikey’s voice comes as a shock, but he’s smiling at them from the door. “You two starting without me?” 

“Never.” Gerard pulls himself up off the stairs and grins at him, pushing all his fears into the back of his mind, to be dealt with later. “We were waiting for you as it happens.” 

“Looks like it,” Mikey says. Frank sniggers. 

“To show you your room,” Gerard says, with his best stern face, but that just makes the others laugh harder. 

It’s an easy role to fall into and he takes a step back, sighs theatrically, and shakes his head as Frank puts his arm around Mikey’s shoulders. 

“Fine,” he says. “Don’t see it. Don’t open your presents. See if I care.” 

“Presents?” The excitement in Mikey’s voice is palpable, contagious, like a kid before Christmas, and Gerard has to duck his head to hide his smile. 

“Now you’re interested?” Gerard shakes his head sadly. “Michael James Way. I am disappointed in you.” 

“Don’t you full-name me.” Mikey pokes his tongue out. “Cuz two can play at that game. Anyway…” He kisses Gerard’s cheek, his arm still around Frank so they all end up pressed together. “You want to show me, right?” 

“I guess.” Gerard tries to feign boredom, but he can’t manage it – he really wants to see Mikey’s face when he sees his room. “C’mon, Mikes.” 

He grabs Mikey’s hand, but Frank doesn’t let go and they climb up the stairs like an awkward animal, too many legs and arms, and Mikey giggling between them. 

“Cover his eyes,” he tells Frank when they get to the door of Mikey’s room and Frank sighs, put upon and mock-grumpy, but he complies, standing on his toes so that he can put his hand over Mikey’s eyes while Mikey bites his lip to keep his smile in check. 

Gerard pushes the door open, suddenly nervous, and steps inside. 

“Tadaa,” he says, mock theatrical. Frank drops his hand from Mikey’s eyes and nudges around him so he can stand next to Gerard. 

He’s doing it so he can see Mikey’s face, and Gerard can’t blame him. Mikey’s eyes are wide, his lips parted, and even though he doesn’t tend to be the most easily read person, Gerard can see how pleased he is with the room. 

“We…” Frank clears his throat, comes very close to shuffling his feet. “We got some other things, and did them up, but if you don’t like them…”

“Don’t like them?” Mikey turns to them, his eyes bright. “Idiot. I love _everything_.” 

He walks into the room, runs his fingers over the deep purple throw that covers the giant bed, lets them trail across it as he walks down to look at the chaise longue that Frank’s managed to reupholster, which they’ve put at the bottom of the bed, an ankle-length, flowered silk kimono draped over it. He picks it up, buries his face in the fabric, and Gerard decides it was worth every cent he spent on it. 

He’s smiling when he drops it, when it pools back onto the chaise longue, but his eyes are already caught by the restored vanity – its wood warm and beautiful now, lit up like Christmas by the lights around the mirror. Cosmetics are peeping out of one open drawer, a spill of imitation pearls and costume jewellery that Gerard had found in a thrift store litter its surface. 

Nestled in one of the closed drawers is the mask that Mikey helped choose online, next to the kneepads that Frank had picked and some of the toys from Frank’s room. But Mikey can’t see those yet, and Gerard feels his stomach twist in anticipation for when he does. 

It’s a tapestry of texture and color and a million miles from the black and white existence that Mikey’s constrained into by work.

“I love it,” he says again. “You both…” He breaks off, his voice shaking slightly and pushes into their arms. “You shouldn’t have.” 

“Hey.” Gerard kisses the side of his face. “Who else are we gonna spoil?” 

“Yeah.” Frank has his arms around them both, but Gerard can feel that he’s balancing on one leg to kick Mikey in the shins. “You’re stuck with us, doofus.” 

That makes Mikey laugh quietly, but he’s pressed so close to them now that Gerard feels the warm huff of breath against his collarbone. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he says. “We wanted you to have somewhere that let you feel like _you_.” 

Mikey looks up, a smile still on his lips. 

“I feel drab,” he says and Gerard frowns, but there’s no weight of self-hatred to the words. 

“You’re not,” Frank says. “But we can dress you to match, if you’d like.” 

He sounds almost hesitant, and Gerard realizes this might be the first time he’s suggested doing anything like this. 

“Yeah,” he says, putting his hand on Frank’s wrist where it’s curled around Mikey’s waist. “We’ll make you so pretty, Mikes.” He shifts so he’s pressing Mikey up against Frank. “Say yes, please?” 

Mikey turns his head os he can see Gerard. “Yes,” he says, the word muffled as Frank kisses the corner of his mouth. 

“C’mon then,” Gerard says, and he pulls Mikey (and Frank) inch by inch into the bathroom and sits Mikey on the edge of the bath.

“What do we do?” Frank asks, and he sounds equal measure nervous and hopeful and Gerard _has_ to kiss him. 

“I like to shave his legs first,” Gerard says when he pulls away. “It makes the stockings easier, makes it…”

“I like how it feels,” Mikey says, his voice small. “My legs are so smooth and when I rub them against Gee, when I get into bed and it’s all clean sheets…” He shakes his head, not able to articulate what he feels, but Gerard can see his face, knows how much he loves the sensation. 

Frank swallows and nods. His mouth must be dry – he’s licking his lips, and when he looks at Gerard it’s a darting glance, almost fearful. 

“Can I?” he asks and Gerard turns to look at him properly. 

“Can you what?”

“Shave his legs.” Frank says the words like they’re something shameful, and Gerard reaches out, touches his shoulder, trying to will the tension away by force of desire. 

“Maybe,” he says, and turns his head to look at Mikey. “If that’s okay with you?”

Mikey nods, his lips pressed together like he’s considering it, but he trusts Frank and he doesn’t say anything, even though he knows how different shaving legs is to shaving your own face, even though he’s never let Gerard forget the time Gerard took most of his ankle skin off with an ill judged swipe of the razor. 

Frank’s eyes widen and he darts another look at Gerard. “You’ll show me what to do, right?”

“Yeah.” Gerard smiles and hopes Frank can see the support, the love in it. “Don’t worry, Frankie. I won’t let you hurt him.” 

Frank breathes out, too harsh, too loud to be anything but a sigh of relief, and he nods, sinking down to his knees between Mikey’s feet.

“What do I do first?”

Gerard runs a washcloth under the hot tap and passes it to Frank. 

“Get his leg wet,” he says, and the words sound like an order even if his voice shakes a little on the last word. 

Frank obeys, though, more gently and thoroughly than Gerard imagined he would and then looks up at Gerard, the washcloth in his hand, waiting to be told what to do next. 

“Here.” Gerard reaches over to the top of the shelves in the corner. Behind the spare shampoo and shower gel is a can of shaving foam. It’s fragranced like flowers, rather than the stuff that lives on the bottom shelf next to their face-razors, and right until this moment Gerard has never questioned why he chose this brand for the rare occasions that he and Mikey do this. 

Frank doesn’t question it either though. He squeezes the foam into his hand, rubs his hands together, and massages it into Mikey’s skin. 

When he’s done, he drops his head onto Mikey’s knee and breathes deeply for a second. 

“You okay?” Mikey’s voice is gentle and he’s tangled his fingers in Frank’s hair, but Frank nods. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I just…” He presses a kiss to the inside of Mikey’s thigh, just above the line of the shaving foam. “Mikey.” 

Mikey smiles down at him, and Frank can’t see from where he is, but Gerard _can_ , and the warmth in his face takes Gerard’s breath away. 

“You can do this,” Mikey says, and Gerard sinks to his knees behind Frank, pressing the razor into Frank’s hand. 

“You can,” he says, and he takes hold of Frank’s wrist, drags it and the razor up Mikey’s leg, leaving a smooth strip of skin in its wake. He hasn’t had the foresight to put a bowl of water on the floor, but he can clean the razor by running it the wrong way against the skin of his wrist, so he does that. “See?” 

“Okay.” Frank’s voice is shaky, but his hand is steady as he makes a second stroke up Mikey’s calf. 

“That’s it.” Gerard holds his wrist out again for Frank to clear the hair from the blades, tries not to shudder when Frank does it. “Just keep going. Keep the blades clean. Try not to shave the same bit of skin over and over.”

Frank huffs out a laugh. “I do shave, you know.” 

“Maybe.” Gerard presses his fingertips into the soft flesh of Frank’s waist. “But you don’t normally shave Mikey’s legs, so…”

“Point.” Frank’s tone is light, but he’s clearly concentrating on the task at hand, clearing the foam and hair from Mikey’s legs in smooth, easy strokes that are infinitely better than the first time Gerard did this. 

When he finishes the first leg, he gestures to Gerard for the washcloth. Gerard runs it under the hot tap, before passing it back to him. Frank clears the remains of the foam from Mikey’s leg, and then stands up and wipes the hair and foam from Gerard’s wrist, not seeming to care that he’s going to block the drain. 

“Ready?” he asks, and Gerard nods, reaches for a clean washcloth and runs it under the hot water again before pressing it into Frank’s hand. 

This time it feels easier. Frank feels happier somehow, more confident, and Gerard can lean back against the wall and watch them, watch Frank’s single-minded concentration, and Mikey’s wide-eyed acceptance. They’re so beautiful together – so good for each other, and Gerard is suddenly, profoundly grateful that he gets to be part of this now. 

“Done?” he asks when Frank seems to have cleared most of the foam from Mikey’s leg, and when Frank nods he pulls the shower curtain across and starts to run the water to get it up to temperature.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling his clothes off and dropping them in an untidy pile on the floor. “In.”

He doesn’t take his time over it, just washes Mikey as quickly and as gently as he can, only lingering when he massages the conditioner into Mikey’s scalp. But Mikey is relaxed in his arms, moving as Gerard pushes him, pliant as a doll. 

He moans quietly, almost petulant, when Gerard switches the water off and helps him out of the shower, into the warm towel that Frank’s holding; moans again when Frank starts rubbing him dry, but this time the noise is deeper, breathier. 

Gerard reaches for a towel of his own, but Frank catches his wrist. 

“Hang on.” Frank sounds almost angry, and Gerard squints at him, blinking the water out of his eyes. “I’m gonna get Mikey into his robe, then I’ll dry you off too.”

“Oh.” The word catches in Gerard’s throat, makes it hard to breathe. “There’s no need… I…”

“Gee?” Mikey sounds dazed, his voice soft at the edges. “Stop being so fucking stupid, yeah?”

“Hey.” Gerard glares at him. “I’m not…”

“You really are,” Frank says, wrapping the painted silk of the kimono around Mikey. “And it doesn’t suit you.” He grabs a dry towel from the rail and holds it open for Gerard. “C’mon.” 

Gerard knows he should fight this – they’re meant to be here for Mikey – but they’re both glaring at him and he suspects that if he starts arguing with them now, he’ll still be here when he and Mikey are both cold and shivering. 

So he allows himself the luxury of stepping into the combination of warm towel and Frank’s arms, and letting himself relax as Frank rubs him dry. 

“There.” Frank’s close enough that Gerard can feel his breath against his skin as he speaks. “Isn’t that better?”

It makes Mikey laugh. 

“You think you’re gonna get my brother to admit he’s wrong?” He shakes his head. “Oh, Frankie. You’ve got a lifetime of disappointment ahead of you.” 

“I’m not that bad,” Gerard says, trying to sound offended, but Mikey just snorts his disbelief and deep inside himself Gerard can’t be mad that his brother knows him that well. 

He pulls his clothes on again as soon as he’s dry, holds his hand out to Mikey. 

“C’mere,” he says, and Mikey takes his hand and lets him lead him back to his bedroom. 

“What are you going to do?” Frank asks as Gerard steers Mikey to the bed, and Gerard runs his fingers through Mikey’s hair. 

“Dry his hair.” Gerard tips Mikey’s face up and runs his thumb over the line of his cheekbone. “Do his make up. Dress him up.” 

“And I can watch?” Frank’s voice is small and Gerard nods just as Mikey says “ _Yes_.” 

Frank sits on the floor, ignoring the bed and the chaise longue and the chair in front of the vanity, watching with wide eyes as Gerard combs out Mikey’s hair and reaches for hairdryer. 

It makes Gerard feel almost clumsy, and he has to breathe deep for a few seconds before he can start brushing and drying Mikey’s hair, getting as much lift into the roots as he can because he wants it to frame Mikey’s face when he’s done. 

It’s not the way Mikey likes his hair normally, but this isn’t about how Mikey likes to look usually – it never has been. It’s about making Mikey see himself as something special, something beautiful, and the first time Gerard did it, he had been desperate, had no idea of what he’d been doing. He just knew that he had to find some way to show Mikey he was worth _something_ before he imploded in a mess of drink and drugs and all-encompassing self-loathing. 

Mikey had been noticeably uneasy every step of the way, tense and apprehensive, relaxing only when Gerard had stepped away and _looked_ at him. 

When he'd told Mikey he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, everything in Mikey had gone soft and pliant, and he'd crawled onto Gerard's lap and ridden him quietly, face pressed hard against his throat as Gerard held him close. 

And then Mikey had looked in the mirror for himself, and the last of his unease had left him in a rush. They’d held each other, standing there, and for the first time Mikey had actually _listened_ when Gerard told him how he felt. 

It was a valuable lesson, and Gerard’s not bothered trying to tell Mikey something since, not when he can show him instead. It’s made things easier to manage, and the whole ritual of stripping the daily world from Mikey, of dressing him up has become charged and meaningful for Gerard, helps him shift his mind as much as it shifts Mikey’s. 

By the time Mikey’s hair’s dry, Gerard is calm and he pushes the mousey waves back off Mikey’s face and pushes a hair-band on them to hold them in place as he reaches for the makeup. 

“Can I help?” Frank asks, and he looks so hopeful that Gerard nods, even though this has always just been him and Mikey, has never been something they’ve involved anyone else in. 

“The makeup’s in the drawer.” He gestures to the open drawer and the mass of cosmetics that’s poking out, and Frank nods, frowns slightly as he gathers as much of it as he can in his hands and dumps it onto the bed next to Mikey. 

“Wasn’t sure what you’d need,” he says, an edge of defiance to his tone. Gerard would take exception to it, except he knows now how Frank attacks most when he’s unsure or afraid, so he pulls Frank down next to him and starts sorting through the makeup. 

“We need a foundation,” Gerard says. “As a base. And highlighter, blush, eyeliner, mascara, shadow…” His hand hovers over the pile on the bed. “What color do you think, Frank?” 

It’s not a trick question, but Frank freezes next to him. 

“Dunno.” His voice is tiny. “I mean, I know they’re different colors, but… what difference is there?” 

“Depends on the effect you want,” Gerard says, careful to keep any judgement from his tone. “Do you want something neutral? Something that you can use to enhance his features? Or do you want something dramatic? Something where you notice the makeup before you notice his face?” He tips Mikey’s face from side to side, let’s Frank look at him. “Both are good, but it helps to know what you’re aiming for before you begin.” 

“Neutral,” Frank says. “I want to see his face.” 

“Yeah.” Gerard traces the pad of his thumb over Mikey’s lips. “That’s my favourite.” 

Frank watches, sitting next to Mikey so closely their thighs are pressed together, so he can watch Gerard put the makeup on him. Occasionally he asks a question, but mostly he watches like he’s trying to learn how to do Mikey’s makeup from just this. 

It’s not intrusive, and the familiar ritual of putting makeup onto Mikey while he’s calm and pliant under Gerard’s hands is still soothing, but Gerard thinks they’re both very aware of Frank the whole time, that there’s a frisson of novelty that comes from being watched. 

“What now?” Frank asks as Gerard finishes applying mascara to Mikey’s lashes and pulls away. 

“Now you put lipstick on him,” Gerard says, holding out the slim, golden tube to Frank. “Then we put some perfume on and get him dressed.”

“You want me to do his lipstick?” Frank sounds lost and Gerard nods. 

“Here.” He guides Frank until he’s straddling Mikey’s thighs, his fingers under Mikey’s chin. “Now, do his bottom lip first.”

Frank does, his whole face twisted in concentration, and maybe it’s more hesitant than Gerard would be, but he manages it. 

“Good.” Gerard pets Frank’s neck and shoulder and feels him relax infinitesimally. “Blot your lips together, Mikes.”

Mikey does, and Gerard reaches around Frank to correct the smudge that mars the cupid’s bow of his top lip. 

“That’ll do,” he says, “if you just want him wearing it around the house or something, but…”

He breaks off, feeling the blush rising in his cheeks. 

“You’re gonna need more on if you want me to make a mess of your cock when I suck it,” Mikey says, his voice neutral but his eyes wicked. “But I guess that’s not what you’re going for?” He flicks the lipstick tube with his finger. “Red looks better for that.” 

“Not tonight.” Gerard leans into Frank so he can press a kiss to Mikey’s forehead. “Got other plans for tonight.”

“Really?” Mikey raises an eyebrow, eloquent. “Gonna share?”

“Not yet.” Gerard kisses the side of Frank’s face before he pulls him up. “Got to finish getting you ready first.” 

He turns away to hunt for the perfume. It’s floral and fruity, makes Mikey smell edible, and Gerard spent a small fortune on it the last time he travelled through Heathrow. It was worth it, though. Mikey loves it, and Frank’s eyes widen slightly as Gerard sprays it onto Mikey’s skin and presses it in. 

“I know that scent,” he says, and Gerard nods. “I just didn’t know…” 

Frank pulls Mikey’s wrist up to his face and breathes deep before pressing a kiss onto the pulse point and Mikey makes a tiny wordless noise of want. 

“Hey.” Gerard pulls Frank away gently. “Not yet, love. Got to get him dressed first.” 

“Right.” Frank wipes his palms on his thighs and looks up at Gerard, his face determined and brave. “What’s first?” 

Gerard nods and pulls open one of the bottom drawers of the vanity. 

“These,” he says and hands Frank the lingerie he chose yesterday afternoon, still wrapped in tissue paper. “Why don’t you open it and show him?” 

Frank does, and Gerard breathes a sigh of relief, pushes the drawer closed. There’s another tissue wrapped package in the drawer that he doesn’t want to have to explain just yet, but with Frank’s attention on Mikey and on the lacy scraps of nothing in his hands, he’s safe for now.

“Kneel down,” he says, when it becomes obvious that Frank’s lost for the moment. “Kneel at his feet.”

Frank does.

“What goes first?” he asks, and Gerard sinks to the floor next to him. 

“Panties first.” He waits until Frank pulls them out. “The stockings are hold-ups so they don’t need a suspender belt.”

Frank’s uncharacteristically clumsy as he slides the panties over Mikey’s feet and the color is high in his cheeks. 

“Stand up,” he says to Mikey, but the words come out as a plea rather than an order. When Mikey rests his hand on Frank’s shoulder to steady himself, Frank fumbles the panties and has to take a deep breath before he can finish sliding them up over Mikey’s thighs. 

The panties are tiny and they fit Mikey snugly – just like Gerard knew they would – and when Gerard puts his hand on the back of Frank’s neck, he shivers. 

“You’re gonna need to arrange him,” he says as Frank licks his lips. “Or they won’t fit properly.” 

It’s arguable that Frank does much good with this. By the time he’s done, Mikey is nearly fully hard, and the panties are straining obscenely over his erection. 

“Now the stockings,” Gerard prompts, because if he doesn’t this is going to be over before it’s even properly begun. 

Frank nods and reaches for the first stocking, but it’s only when Gerard guides his hands that he manages to slip it over Mikey’s toes. 

“Careful,” Gerard says. “The nylon snags so easily.” He keeps his hands over Frank’s until the top of the stocking is tight around the top of Mikey’s thigh, the elastic holding it in place. “You good to do the other one?” 

Frank nods, and though he’s clumsier than Gerard’s used to seeing him, he manages it. 

“There,” he says when he’s done, and he presses a kiss to the inside of Mikey’s knee. “You look beautiful, Mikes.”

He does, but he’s not finished yet, so Gerard goes to the closet and pulls out the dress he found in the thrift store. 

“Let me,” he says and when Mikey nods, Gerard slips the dress over his head. 

It’s just a simple slip dress, but it looks stunning on Mikey.

“Hey.” Gerard pulls him close, rubs his thumbs over the hard muscle and bone of his shoulders. “You look…” He shakes his head, at a loss for words, and Frank presses close to them. 

“You look beautiful,” he says to Mikey. “You’re amazing.”

Mikey blushes. “You like it?” he asks. “I wasn’t sure.”

“I love it.” Frank sounds completely sincere. “I love you, Mikes.” He kisses the corner of Mikey’s mouth. “Thank you for letting me be part of this.” 

“I wanted you to,” he says. “Been wanting you to for ages, I just didn't know how to ask.” 

“What?” Frank smiles at him, gentle and warm. “You thought I’d say no to this?” 

“Maybe.” Mikey bites his lip and cups Frank’s face in his hands. 

“You were wrong,” Frank says, and Gerard can hear something at the very edge of his tone. “Mikes, I…”

“Frank?” Gerard slides his arm around Frank so the three of them are pressed together. “Baby?” He waits until Frank looks up at him. “You want to be pretty too?” 

Frank’s eyes flutter closed, and he nods, but Gerard puts his hand over Mikey’s and tilts Frank’s face up. 

“Frank?” He keeps his voice gentle. “I’m gonna need you to use your words here. Do you want to do this with us?” He brushes his lips over Frank’s forehead. “You want us to show you how we feel about you?” 

“Yes.” Frank’s eyes are still closed, like it’s not real if he can’t see it. “Please, Gee.” 

“God.” Gerard rests his forehead against Frank’s temple. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, Frankie. You have no idea.” 

“Yeah?” Frank laughs but it’s breathless, a bit desperate. “Always knew I’d get into trouble if I moved in with you.” 

“You were trouble already,” Gerard says, starting to steer Frank towards the bed. “Maybe I just wanted to get my share.” 

Frank makes a noiseless word in response, and Mikey looks at Gerard, biting his lip against his smile, and waits for Gerard to nod before he starts stripping Frank’s clothes off him with gentle hands. 

Frank’s shivering by the time he’s naked, but it’s not cold, it’s something far more special. 

“Go to the vanity,” Gerard says, and his voice is gentle even though his words are a command. “Bottom drawer on the left.” 

Frank’s steps are hesitant, his hands fumbling uncharacteristically, but neither Gerard nor Mikey offer to help him.

When he pulls the drawer open, his breath catches, and he rests his fingers on the tissue paper without lifting it out. 

“It’s for you,” Gerard says. “I bought it for you.” It feels like a very big thing to admit, and he swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “Take it out.”

The tissue paper rustles as Frank picks it up, and Gerard can hear his breath as he unwraps it. 

“Gee.” His voice cracks. “I… I _can’t_.”

“You can.” Gerard is next to him in three steps, his hand on Frank’s bicep. “Just let us help.” 

Frank bites his lip, his eyes wide, and he doesn’t seem to be able to look away from the scrap of white satin in his hands. 

“But…” He finally looks up at Gerard, and Gerard can read the mingled hope and fear in his eyes. “Gee… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Here.” Gerard plucks the panties from Frank’s hands and sinks to his knees at his feet. “May I?”

Frank nods once and Mikey catches him by the shoulders and strips him naked before guiding him until he’s sitting down on the very edge of the chair at the vanity. He blinks, exhales and holds one leg up, then the other, allowing Gerard to slide the panties onto his legs. 

His breath catches as Gerard pulls the panties up past his knees. 

“Stand up,” Gerard says, and when Frank does he eases the panties over his hips and settles them in place over Frank’s ass. 

They’re simpler than anything he’d get for Mikey, but he’d known he had to get them for Frank as soon as he saw them. They sit low on his hips, barely cover his cock, and the white of the satin and scant lace looks stunning against his tattoos, the combination of the feminine fabric and the harsh lines of the art delicious in their contrast. 

“Frank.” He looks up, sees how much this is affecting Frank. “You look so fucking beautiful.” 

“You really do.” Mikey’s voice is rough, and when Gerard looks around, he’s watching them with dark eyes. 

Frank makes a tiny noise in response, but for once he doesn’t have a smart comeback, and when Gerard clambers to his feet, Frank links their fingers and follows Gerard to the bed without the faintest hint of opposition. 

It’s unusual – almost unnerving – and Gerard is glad when Mikey puts his arm around Frank’s shoulders and pulls him close. 

“Gonna do your makeup,” Gerard says, casting his eyes over the cosmetics that are still littering the bed. He discounts foundation straight away – Frank isn’t Mikey, and Gerard knows how little it would take to spook him at this point.

He wants to do _something_ , though. Something that will have an impact, so he reaches for a cream eyeshadow and a kohl pencil and swings himself onto Frank’s lap, so he’s straddling Frank’s thighs. 

“Stay still,” he tells Frank and tips his head back, frowning down at his face in concentration as he dips a brush into the eyeshadow. 

It’s a dark red, and part of him wonders if he should have stuck to something lighter, something pastel. But he trusts his gut on this – Frank wouldn’t have found that easier. He _knows_ Frank, or he’s starting to think he does anyway, and Frank is always going to find the dramatic easier to adapt to than the pretty. 

So he works the shadow into the crease of Frank’s eye, traces it underneath as well for an extra shock of color, and then reaches for a light, shimmering powder for the lid. 

“Good,” he says and Frank trembles under him, trying to stay still in the face of the unfamiliar sensations. “You’re doing so well for me, Frankie.” 

Frank makes a tiny, disbelieving noise, but Mikey is tracing his hand over the curve of Frank’s spine, and he doesn’t actually say anything. Instead he lets Gerard hold his eyelid up and trace the kohl pencil around the water line, even though Gerard can tell he’s unsure – uncomfortable even. 

“It feels strange, doesn’t it?” Mikey says, his tone conversational. “First time Gerard did it for me, I couldn’t stay still.” He grins at Gerard, his eyes warm with the memory. “Ended up with a line all down my cheek and had to wash it all off before I went out.”

“Yeah?” Frank tries to turn his head to look at Mikey, and Gerard catches his chin to hold it still. “You went out the first time you did this?”

“Nah.” Mikey shakes his head. “I was only a kid and I thought it would look cool for a show. Gee just offered to help.” 

“Really?” Frank sounds disbelieving, and Gerard can understand that. With the benefit of hindsight, knowing where they are now, he’d never believe how innocent they’d been that day either. Mikey shrugs, though. 

“Gee never looked at me like that,” he says, and despite everything, despite how far they’ve come, there is still a tiny edge of hurt to his tone. “It was years before I was able to talk him around.”

“And look at you now.” Gerard meets his gaze, steady and unflinching. “You think you’d be here now, you think _we’d_ be here now, if I’d given in straight away?” 

“Point,” Mikey says, and leans in to press a kiss to Frank’s shoulder. 

“Right.” Gerard drops the eyeliner and rummages through the cosmetics until he finds a clear, shiny gloss. “Lips, Frankie.”

Frank purses his lips in an exaggerated pout, and Gerard grins as he traces the gloss over them in a sticky slick. It’s very simple, but it works for now. Next time they do this, he can do more, maybe – if there is a next time. 

“Pass me some perfume?” he asks, and Mikey reaches over so he can fumble on the vanity until he finds a light, woody cologne – sweeter than most men’s fragrances, but still not overtly feminine. It’s a good choice, and Frank smiles as Gerard sprays it onto him and presses it into his skin.

“There,” he says as he tousles Frank’s hair with his fingers. “You look lovely, Frankie.”

He does, even though he looks nowhere near as feminine as Mikey does. He still looks like himself, just softer at the edges, more vulnerable, and it’s that more than the makeup or lingerie that makes him beautiful. 

Mikey looks entranced though and when Gerard moves back, he cups Frank’s face and stares at him, wide-eyed. 

“So pretty,” Mikey says, his voice hoarse. “You look beautiful.” He traces his finger over Frank’s lips, letting it catch on the sticky film of the gloss. “Can I kiss you? Please?” 

Frank nods, his lips parting slightly, and as Gerard steps back, away, Mikey pulls Frank close and kisses him more gently than Gerard thinks he’s ever seen them kiss before. But Frank doesn’t push for more; he lets Mikey lead, takes what he’s given, and he’s sighing into Mikey’s mouth as Mikey kisses him slowly, gently, almost chastely. 

It takes a second for Gerard to understand, and when he does he has to turn his face to hide his smile. They’re playing at being girls, he thinks, and he remembers the softcore lesbian porn that Mikey favored when he was sixteen, and it’s all he can do to hold back a completely inappropriate giggle. It doesn’t mean it’s not hot though, and Gerard sinks to the floor opposite the bed because he wants to see this – _needs_ to see it – but he doesn’t need to be a part of it. 

He’s seen them together enough now that it’s a familiar sight, but there’s nothing familiar about this. It’s almost shocking how gentle they’re being with each other, how soft. It’s certainly shocking to see Frank with so few of his facades in place, to see Mikey taking the lead with him – confident and sure – and Frank _allowing_ that. 

They kiss until they’re both moaning, until the lipstick and lipgloss is nothing but a memory, and Gerard can see how hard they both are. 

Frank is fumbling with Mikey’s dress, pulling at it until Mikey pulls away. 

“You want me to take this off?” he asks, and Frank nods, reaching out to help Mikey as he starts to shrug out of the dress. 

It’s Frank who finally pulls the dress free and he drops it to the floor, not caring where it lands, not seeming to care about anything other than pressing back into Mikey’s arms. They’re kissing again, like they’re desperate for it, pushing their bodies against each other in their lingerie, their limbs tangled together. 

“Don’t you feel pretty?” Mikey sounds breathless when he eventually pulls back a scant few inches. “I love it like this. I feel…” He shakes his head, lost for words, but Frank nods like he understands anyway. 

“I do. But…” He bites his lip. “Doesn’t it scare you?”

“Why?” Mikey smiles, traces his fingers over Frank’s cheek, and there’s nothing in his face except acceptance and love. 

“There’s nowhere to hide,” Frank says, his voice quiet, and Mikey pulls him close, hums against his skin. 

“Maybe,” he says and runs his lips up Frank’s neck, biting at his jaw. “But there’s nowhere to hide when I’m a puppy either, you know?” He kisses the corner of Frank’s mouth, light as a feather. “There’s nowhere to hide when you’re fucking me, taking me apart.” He pulls back slightly, shrugs. “Being seen is scary, sometimes, but I trust you to see me.” 

“Oh.” Frank runs his fingers down Mikey’s arm, his eyes wide and wondering. “You feel like this?” He blinks. “Like, all the time?” 

Mikey nods. “Scares the hell out of me sometimes.” His mouth twists. “You’re worth it, though.” His eyes flick to Gerard. “You both are.” 

Gerard smiles at him, not trying to hide what he’s feeling. Mikey’s so brave and he’s come so far, and seeing him here now, secure and strong in his vulnerability makes Gerard’s heart twist. 

Frank seems to be feeling the same. He looks at Mikey like he’s never seen him before and when Mikey leans in to kiss him, he falls into it, kissing Mikey back like his life depends on it. 

“Frankie.” Mikey pulls back, looking wrecked. “Let me show you? I want to…” He breaks off, his eyes desperate, his hands cupping the top of Frank’s arms. 

Frank is completely silent and still for a second, and Gerard doesn’t think that either he or Mikey are breathing, but then Frank nods and Mikey presses back in to kiss him again. 

“Let me,” Mikey says and pushes Frank down onto the bed, biting his neck. 

“Yeah,” Frank says, tangling his fingers in Mikey’s hair. “Mikey… _Please_.” 

That makes Mikey smile and he kisses his way down Frank’s chest, scraping his teeth as he goes, so that Frank makes the prettiest noises. 

“When Gee fucks me like this,” Mikey says, looking up from under his lashes at Frank, “I pretend I’m a girl.” He dips his head, sucks Frank’s nipple into a peak. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Frank gasps and Mikey grins as he shifts to the other nipple, licking at it before he fastens his teeth around it and, with his eyes fixed on Frank’s, bites. It makes Frank moan, arching up off the bed until Mikey puts his hands on his waist and pushes him back down. 

“Steady,” he says. “I got you, Frankie. Just lie back and let me do this.”

Frank makes a desperate little noise but he sinks back to the bed and watches, wide-eyed, as Mikey kisses and bites his way down his stomach until he reaches the lace band at the waist of his panties. 

“God.” Mikey’s voice is rough, and he rubs his cheek over the bulge of Frank’s erection under the satin of the panties. “Frank…” 

“Please,” Frank says again. “Please, Mikes… You gotta…”

“What?” Mikey grins, his smile brimming full of mischief as he pushes Frank’s legs apart. “Got something you want, Frankie?”

He presses a kiss to the damp spot, where the head of Frank’s cock is pressing against the fabric of the panties, but then he pulls away and kisses the inside of Frank’s knee. 

“Gonna make you beg,” he says and he looks Frank in the eyes as he bites a mark into the soft skin of his inner thigh. 

Frank breathes out, rough and raw, as Mikey bites again, and this time there’s only the barest second of relief as Mikey eases the tiny hurt with his tongue before he bites again, higher up, harder, and Frank makes a high, desperate noise in the back of his throat while Gerard watches, rapt. 

Mikey doesn’t listen, though. He’s methodical, marking his way up one thigh and then leaning back to start again at the other knee, and the noises Frank makes, which have been getting breathier and lower as Mikey has gotten closer to the crease of his hip, pick up again in pitch and volume, this time with an added air of desperation, of desire. 

“Please,” Frank says, but Mikey’s lips just twist into a smile as he bites the next mark onto Frank’s leg. 

By the time Mikey’s finished, Frank has a neat row of marks up each thigh and his cock is straining against the fabric of his panties. 

“Hey,” Mikey says, and waits until Frank looks up before he dips his head and suck the head of his cock lightly through the satin. 

The noise that Frank makes is unholy and it’s only Mikey’s hands on his hips that stops him bucking off the bed altogether. 

“Want to get off like this?” Mikey asks when the front of the panties are soaked – with saliva or pre-come, Gerard can’t tell – and there’s only curiosity in his tone, but Frank shakes his head.

“Want you to fuck me,” he says, and there’s a moment where the world holds its breath. Mikey’s breath catches, and then he bites his lip as he nods. 

He doesn’t bother asking Frank if he’s sure – and Gerard knows that even though it would be offensive and insulting to ask, he wouldn’t have been able to help himself. 

Instead, Mikey pulls Frank’s panties off, fumbling and rushed, leaving them looped around one of Frank’s ankles like an afterthought.

“I need lube,” he says, and it’s Gerard who searches through the vanity until he finds a tube, opens it, passes it to Mikey. 

Mikey only spares him the barest hint of a smile. He squeezes the tube, overeager, and a messy splodge of lube lands partly on him fingers, partly on the sheets. Mikey doesn’t seem to care though; he’s running the pads of his fingers over Frank’s ass in gentle, featherlight stroke until Frank’s shivering and Gerard can see his cock straining against his stomach, like it could get harder. 

“You ready?” Mikey asks, and even though his voice is steady, Gerard can see his hand is shaking. 

Frank lets his legs fall open wider as he nods, and Gerard sees the breath Mikey takes before he slides two of his fingers into Frank. It’s a stretch, and Frank groans, clenching his eyes shut as Mikey frowns in concentration and twists his wrist. He has to put his hand on Frank’s hip then to pin him back on the bed, but that doesn’t stop Frank from circling his hips, fucking Mikey’s fingers into him, trying to set the pace. 

“C’mon.” His voice is gravel-rough. “‘m not made of glass, Mikes. I’m not gonna break.” 

That’s a lie, Gerard thinks, but it serves no purpose to say it and in any case, Mikey ignores him and rests his weight against Frank’s thigh so he’s pinned more tightly in place, so he’s forced to take what Mikey gives him. 

Gerard’s been on the other end of this with Mikey, been forced to lie still while Mikey fingers him open, slow, slick, and sure, until he’s begging. It’s maddening – a combination of _so good_ and _not enough_ that has Gerard shifting where he’s sitting, wanting to ease the pressure on his cock, but not wanting to draw attention to himself. 

Maybe they wouldn’t notice – Frank’s legs are sprawled wide apart now, Mikey busy between them, and there is a stream of profanities spilling from Frank’s lips that are at odds with the dark fan of his lashes against his white cheeks, the soft curl of his hair. 

Despite that, Gerard chooses to keep it in his pants, and he leans back against the wall, his legs spread, his knees up, his attention wholly fixed on the bed. 

“Fuck,” Frank says at last, his voice breaking. “Mikey… _please_.” 

“What?” Mikey’s voice is low and rough, and he pulls back so he’s looking at Frank’s splayed out, pink tinged body like it’s something precious. 

“Fuck me,” Frank says, and Gerard can see how Mikey freezes at the words, his spine straight, his fingers stilling from the soothing patterns they’re tracing over Frank’s thighs. 

“You sure?” Mikey asks, and he waits until Frank nods before he shoves his panties down his thighs and slicks himself up, lining himself up with Frank’s hole. 

“Breathe out,” he says. “Try to relax for me.” And Gerard hears the rough exhale of Frank’s breath that turns into a gasp as Mikey pushes into him, slow and steady and unstoppable. 

“Mikey.” Frank’s voice is desperate, has the tiny, rising edge of panic to it, and it’s only then that Mikey stops, his weight braced on his arms, his muscles trembling as he tries to hold on.

“Frank.” His voice is shaking, and he pauses, mouths at Frank’s face, too open and clumsy to even be categorised as a kiss. “You feel so good.”

They haven’t done it before, Gerard realizes, not like this, and he’s suddenly dizzyingly and painfully hard as he watches. 

It takes a moment for Frank to adapt, to relax underneath Mikey, to start moving under him again, using Mikey’s cock to fuck himself on as he shifts and tries to get the angle right. Mikey lets him, biting his lip so hard Gerard knows it will leave a mark, his forearms trembling slightly with the effort. 

“Okay,” Frank says at last, hooking his leg around Mikey and using it to pull him close. “‘m good… this is good…” He bites at Mikey’s jaw. “You can fuck me now.”

“I can?” There’s no hint of desperation in Mikey’s voice, just amusement and he rolls his hips slowly forward, fucking into Frank slowly, angling his cock so that Frank bucks and swears under him. “Gonna let me do this, Frankie?” 

Gerard thinks that maybe Frank will argue, will fight even now, but instead Frank strains upwards until he can catch Mikey’s lips, until he can kiss him. 

They fuck slowly after that – Mikey’s pace, Mikey’s lead – Frank pliant and desperate under him, groaning into Mikey’s mouth as they kiss, his fingers gripping onto Mikey’s shoulders like they’re the only thing that’s anchoring him. 

It’s like there’s no one else in the room, but for some reason Gerard doesn’t feel excluded, doesn’t feel that he should leave. He can’t begrudge them this – either of them – and instead of the jealousy or discomfort he should be feeling, he’s breathless with how much he wants to be here, watching them, watching over them. 

He never thought he would get to see them like this; Mikey’s face tight as he fights himself for control; Frank whining, pushing up against Mikey, hard and not trying to hide his desperation, none of his masks in place, everything open to be seen. 

“Come for me.” Mikey sounds ruined. “Please, Frankie. I need to feel you.”

The only answer Frank gives is the tiniest sigh, but he reaches down and wraps his hand around his cock and jerks it maybe three or four times before he’s coming, seizing up around Mikey and then Mikey’s coming too, burying his face and the noises he makes in Frank’s neck.

Frank holds onto him afterwards, doesn’t let him pull out, and they kiss, slow and thorough for what seems like ages. Gerard watches them, his head back against the wall, still hard in his jeans, but unwilling to do anything about it right now. 

At last Mikey pulls out and collapses in Frank’s arms. He’s ninety percent asleep, but Frank raises an eyebrow at Gerard. 

“You okay?” he asks, and holds one arm out to Gerard, and invitation Gerard is incapable of resisting, and he crawls across the carpet to the bed so he can push his face into Frank’s hand. 

“‘m good,” he says, his voice low, because yes, he’s probably still hard, but he’s not bothered by it – not right now. “Can I draw you?”

That makes Frank chuckle slightly, the noise sleep-heavy, but he nods, and that’s enough for Gerard. 

He sketches them, losing track of time as he kneels at the edge of the bed, positioning the bedclothes with careful hands as they sleep. He sketches them over and over, pictures that capture the lines of their bodies and his feelings for them, and when at last he flicks the light out, he curls up on the chaise longue, and spends the night sleeping at their feet. 

—

Of all the things Gerard remembered to do, he did not remember to draw the blinds. Which is probably why he wakes up at some ridiculous hour the next morning, the light bright in his eyes. 

He shifts, trying to wriggle away from it, but the window is opposite the bed and there’s no escape, and anyway, now he’s awake that chaise is uncomfortable, and his bladder is full, and he should probably take a piss and decide if he’s going to climb into his own bed or Mikey’s. 

It’s a struggle to pull himself upright, and he sits there for a second when he does, congratulating himself and blinking against the light. 

“You’re awake.” Mikey sounds hoarse, and when Gerard looks around, he’s alone in the bed, sitting up against the headboard, his knees pulled to his chest, uncertain and vulnerable. 

“Kinda.” Gerard blinks at him, frowns. “Where’s Frank?”

“Got up about twenty minutes ago,” Mikey says, his lips tight, and Gerard can see the tension in his muscles 

“How is he?” Gerard asks, and Mikey shrugs. 

“Not himself.” He looks at Gerard, and there’s a level of hurt in his eyes that Gerard had hoped never to see there again. “Last night was a lot.”

“It was,” Gerard says, because the best thing to do here is to tell the truth. “But you were careful, Mikey. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t out of his depth though.” Mikey looks at him, unflinching and Gerard can’t deny this. 

“What do we do?” Gerard asks, because if Frank’s gotten up, gone away from them, then something’s wrong – at the very least he’s hiding. 

Mikey blinks at him. “You want to fix this?” he asks, and there’s a note of incredulity to his voice that kind of hurts Gerard. “Cuz this…” he gestures at the empty bed and it’s crumpled sheets. “This is down to me, Gee.”

Gerard shrugs. “That’s not how I remember it.” He looks at Mikey, steady, confident. “I was the one who set this up. I was the one who dressed you up – dressed him up.” 

“So we’re both to blame.” Mikey’s doing his best to sound nonchalant, but Gerard knows him – can hear the edge of relief to the words. “It doesn’t make what I did right.” He looks at Gerard, and Gerard can see how much he blames himself for whatever he thinks has gone wrong. “I should have been looking after him, Gee.”

“Hey.” Gerard climbs into bed and puts his arm around Mikey. “Sometimes you gotta take someone at their word, you know?” He butts his head against Mikey’s shoulder. “I remember someone very wise telling me that once.”

MIkey sniffs, but Gerard can tell he’s remembering that conversation, back after the first night they slept together. 

“It’s different,” he says, and Gerard shakes his head. 

“Not really.” He tightens his hold around Mikey. “Sometimes the things we want are the things that scare us most. It doesn’t make us wrong to want them, and it doesn’t make the people who give you what you ask for wrong either.”

Mikey looks up, something hopeful in his eyes at last. “So, what do we do?” he asks. “You think we should both fix it or something?” 

“Yeah.” Gerard sighs, frustrated. “But I don’t know what to do.” Mikey hums, looks at Gerard like he’s considering the problem properly at last, not lost in pointless self blame. “What usually helps when he’s upset?”

“Put the power back in his hands,” Mikey says, at last. “Meet him on his ground.”

“And how do we do that?” Gerard asks, although there are already answers forming in his mind. 

Mikey stares at him, clearly making a decision, then he swings himself around, climbs out of bed, and stalks over to the vanity. 

“You put my toys in here?” he asks, but it isn’t a question and Gerard nods. 

“Middle drawer.” He’d put all of Mikey’s toys there, mostly the ones from Frank’s room, the clamps and the plugs and the paddles; some of the toys from his room. The sleek metal toys, the curiously shaped glass ones. 

Mikey makes a noise of acknowledgement, opens the drawer and hisses out a breath at the sight of the toys, supported and displayed by the deep velvet lining of the drawer. 

“This is beautiful,” he says, and Gerard smiles, pleased despite everything else that’s happening. 

“We wanted you to have this,” Gerard says. “We wanted it to be special.”

“Yeah,” Mikey breathes, and reaches into the drawer, finds something and holds it up.

It’s a paddle – not large, certainly not the largest that Mikey has, and Gerard knows this from experience – but the wood is smooth, cared for. It’s had a lot of use, and Gerard would know that, even if Frank hadn’t smirked and told him as much when Gerard had picked it up two days before. 

“Oh,” Gerard says. “Yes.” He guesses that Mikey’s intending to bring the paddle to Frank, to take punishment for last night himself. But somewhere in Gerard’s mind there’s a voice that’s talking about comfort zones and power dynamics and so he gets out of bed and walks over to Mikey, feigning a bravado he isn’t close to feeling. “Let me.”

“What?” Mikey looks at him, eyes wide. “No, Gee…”

“Seriously.” Gerard swallows, trying to sound braver than he feels right now. “Last night changed things, Mikes. It’s only right that we… that _I_ do something similar to make it better.”

Mikey nods, though he doesn’t look convinced. “Maybe,” he says. “But…” He bites his lip. “Gee? You don’t have to.” 

“Hey.” Gerard closes the difference between them and loops his arms around Mikey. “It’s okay. I want to.” He inhales, rests his forehead against Mikey’s. “I got him to do this. ’s my job to help him now.”

“Yeah.” Mikey tightens his arms around him. “You do know that’s not how it works, right?”

“It is this morning,” Gerard says, because if he’s sure of anything, he’s sure of this. “You think that would work?” He pulls away slightly, frowns. “I’m not gonna make this worse, am I?” 

“No!” Mikey shakes his head vehemently. “It’d help, Gee, it really would. Just…” He bites his lip. “Frank doesn’t always play gentle.” He’s not avoiding Gerard’s gaze right now – but he’s not meeting it either. “You just haven’t gotten to see him like that.”

“What?” Gerard blinks against the confusion, against the tight clench of his chest. “He _hurts_ you?” 

“No.” Mikey’s eyes snap up to meet his. “Never. He would always stop if I safe worded. But…” His fingers trace a pattern over the small of Gerard’s back. “He plays different with me than he does with you. Harder.”

“And you think I can’t cope?” Gerard raises an eyebrow, mock haughty. “Been doing this longer than you have, Mikes.” 

Mikey’s mouth twists up into a smile, but he shakes his head. “Not in the same way,” he says. 

“I can cope,” Gerard says, sure of this, even if he isn’t sure of anything else. “But I’ll make sure he knows my safe word if it makes you feel better.” 

“Yeah.” Mikey exhales, reluctantly presses the paddle into Gerard’s hand. “It does.” 

For all his brave words, Gerard still needs a few minutes to himself. He brushes his teeth and has a shower, before he heads downstairs. 

Nudity isn’t something he finds easy, and walking downstairs naked is more of a challenge than he anticipated. The way Frank’s eyes widen when he walks into the living room makes it worth it, though, and Gerard doesn’t bother with words – he walks across the room and kneels, naked, at Frank’s feet, at the foot of his chair, stretching his arms out with the paddle balanced on his open palms. 

He’s looking at the floor, couldn’t look up at Frank right now if he was being paid to do so, but he hears the sharp intake of breath when Frank sees him, when Frank realizes. The moment of silence that follows is painfully long, and Gerard has to force himself to keep breathing, the weight of the paddle on his hands making his arms ache, his knees, already sore where they press into the floor. 

It’s too much, and he can feel panic coiling in his belly, the words _bad idea_ echoing around his skull like they’re being chanted by a gang of schoolyard bullies. This was stupid and he should get up, and maybe Frank will do him a favour and never mention it again and…

There’s the rustle of movement as Frank shifts in his chair, the soft noise of him putting his book down on the table next to him. When he stands up, it’s a force of will for Gerard not to look up, to keep his eyes on the floor as Frank’s bare toes appear in front of him. 

“What do you want?” Frank’s voice is gentle, careful, _controlled_ , and Gerard suddenly remembers why he’s doing this. “What are you asking me for, Gerard?”

It’s important that he says the right thing here. Frank reacts badly to pity, and their relationship still feels too new, too fragile to cope with Gerard blundering in with clumsy words. He takes a breath. 

“Whatever you want to give me,” he says, his eyes still fixed on the floor. He wants to look up, to judge Frank’s response, to check he’s saying the right thing – but he _can’t_. 

“Even if it hurts you?” Frank’s voice is neutral, and when he trails his fingers over Gerard’s shoulders, he doesn’t respond to Gerard’s shiver. 

“Yes,” Gerard says, and Frank’s hand tightens fractionally on the back of Gerard’s neck before he hums and turns away. 

Gerard can hear him walk across the room, hears the complaint of cushions as he sits down on the sofa, but he still doesn’t move or look up. 

“Okay.” Frank’s voice is rough. “Come here.” 

It’s awkward, turning and crawling across the floor with his arms still out, but Gerard manages it, and it’s worth it for the tiny smile Frank gives him when he stops, his kneecaps barely touching Frank’s toes. 

Now that he’s looking at Frank’s face, he can’t seem to stop, and he tracks every indecipherable expression as Frank leans forward and takes the paddle from his hands, letting his fingers graze across the heel of Gerard’s hand as he takes it. 

“Over my knee,” Frank says, and he shifts himself back on the sofa so Gerard can climb across him. 

It feels awkward, like he’s far too exposed for comfort. The position means Gerard’s knees are apart, his ass pushed up into the air and he’s able to hide nothing except his face which he buries in his folded arms. 

Frank trails his fingers up the back of Gerard’s thighs, from the back of his knees to the curve of his ass, a gentle, barely there touch that he repeats using his nails. Gerard shivers. 

“You want to stop,” Frank says, “you tell me.” He stroking Gerard’s skin like he’s touch-starved, and Gerard can feel the tension in his body where they’re touching. “Just say stop and I will.” 

It’s not what Gerard was expecting – things between Frank and Mikey always seem to be more elaborate, more complex, but maybe he needs to let go of the idea that his relationship with Frank is ever going to be in any way similar to what Frank and Mikey have – even when they’re doing something like this.

He nods, his face still cradled by his arms, and Frank makes a pleased little noise in the back of his throat. 

The first slap is way lighter than Gerard’s been expecting – even if the paddle feels different, heavier than Frank’s hand did before. It’s followed by the smallest pause as Frank waits to see if he’ll react, but Gerard’s committed to this, so he bites his lip and buries his face in his arms and Frank starts spanking him in earnest, each blow still light, but fast-paced and relentless after that first pause. 

It’s almost shocking. Gerard was expecting Frank to hit him harder, to aim for pain rather than whatever this sensation is, but the sensation layers fast and Gerard’s skin starts to feel warm fairly quickly. 

He’s trying to count the blows in his head, because he’s seen this in porn – read it – and there’s always an obsession with numbers, with the count of what is happening. He loses track early on, though. Whatever else this is, it isn’t porn. It’s Frank’s body under him, the relentless fall of the paddle on his ass, too much and not enough all at once. It’s Frank’s arm wrapped around his waist to hold him in place, it’s the sound of Frank’s breath interposed with the sound of the slaps. It’s intimate, vulnerable, and it’s leaving Gerard breathless. 

He’s been trying to stay still, to stay quiet – mostly because he thinks it’s what Frank would want – but he reaches a moment where it gets too much and he moans, shifting so that he can bite his arm to stifle the noise. 

Frank pauses at that, running his hand over the warm skin of Gerard’s ass and upper thighs. 

“How you doing?” he asks. 

“Good.” Gerard’s voice is breathy, higher than he’d intended. “‘m good, Frankie.”

“Yeah.” Frank sounds amused, more relaxed now than the hunched in person Gerard had found when he’d come into the room. “You are. You want more?” 

“Yes.” The word comes out faster, more desperate than Gerard meant, and he pushes his face further into his arms. “If you want to, I mean.” 

That makes Frank chuckle. “Course I do.” He pauses his fingers resting on the sorest spot of Gerard’s ass. “You can make noises,” he says, and pinches – hard – startling a noise from Gerard. “I like it when you make noises.” 

He starts spanking Gerard again, but this time the slaps are slower, harder. He’s concentrating on the soft vulnerable area just under the curve of Gerard’s ass, at the top of his thighs. Each strike is distinct, like he wants Gerard to notice each one, like he wants each one to leave a mark, and Gerard could probably count them if he wanted to, but he’s beyond that. 

He doesn’t try to stifle his noises this time, lets the moans and the whines fall, uncensored, from his lips. 

He does try to hold still though, and maybe Frank realizes this because he starts to focus his blows on one place, lets them fall in a harsh, stinging percussion until the sensation builds too much and Gerard _can’t_ stay still. 

His legs twist, pushing his ass up, making him even more exposed and Frank sighs, happily, switching his attention to Gerard’s other thigh. It’s harder to stay still now; Gerard’s feet are twisting and drumming on the sofa, and Frank has tightened his hold around Gerard to keep him in place. He doesn’t tell Gerard to stay still, though, doesn’t tell him to be quiet, and Gerard abandons the pretence of trying to hold back. He’s gasping by the time Frank stops, panting out feral little noises into the cradle of his arms. 

“Hey.” Frank rubs over his skin, over the marks he’s bound to have made. “You still with me, Gee? Still good?”

Gerard nods his head, not able to find the words and Frank starts running his nails over Gerard’s sore, swollen skin, not hard, but enough to have Gerard bucking up, hissing and swearing under his breath. 

“Shhhh,” Frank says, but he doesn’t stop, in fact he scratches harder. “You’re doing so well.” 

There’s a part of Gerard that can imagine how he looks right now – naked, marked, writhing like a whore on Frank’s lap – but he doesn’t care. 

“Please,” he says, even though he’s not sure what he’s asking for here. “ _Please_.”

“God.” Frank sounds like he’s talking to himself. “Gee…” 

He lifts his hand and rains down a series of sharp smacks with his open hand, pulling Gerard close when he bucks too hard and nearly comes off his lap. 

“Steady,” he says, pinching Gerard’s inner thigh viciously. “Don’t want you falling off.” 

Gerard whines, his toes curling, but he uncrosses his arms, takes hold of the sofa cushion with desperate clenching fingers as if that will hold him steady. 

He’s so exposed like this, splayed open, his asshole, his balls, the heavy length of his cock, and now that Frank’s using his hand rather than the paddle, he’s making the blows more intimate, pinches and flicks that leave Gerard gasping, as well as the open handed slaps. 

It’s a burning, simmering heat of a pain, and it builds until Gerard can’t feel anything else, can’t think of anything else, until the only thing he can do is lift his head and say “ _Enough_ ” in a broken, panting voice. 

Frank stops at once, pulls Gerard up onto his knee, and wraps his arms around him. 

“Gee.” He kisses the side of Gerard’s face. “You did so well, baby. You did perfect.” 

“Yeah?” Gerard hates how needy he sounds, but he _does_ need to hear this now. He hadn’t meant to say stop, had wanted to let Frank do whatever he needed to feel in control, but Frank doesn’t seem to care. 

He’s cradling Gerard like he’s something precious, stroking his shoulders and back carefully, soothingly. 

“Can you hand me the blanket?” he asks, and Gerard blinks, confused, before he realizes that Frank wasn’t speaking to him. 

There’s the rustle of movement in the room, and then Mikey’s there, wrapping a fluffy blanket around Gerard’s shoulders, letting his hand rest on Gerard’s neck, even when the blanket is secure. 

It’s nice, comforting, even if Gerard has no idea when Mikey even got there. He drops his head onto Frank’s shoulder so Mikey can pet his neck properly. He might even make helpless little purring noises of pleasure and encouragement, but neither Frank nor Mikey say anything about it, so he doesn’t try to censor himself. 

Even when Mikey sits down, he doesn't go far. He sits on the floor at Frank’s feet, resting his head on Frank’s knee, his hand wrapped around Gerard’s ankle. Occasionally he kisses Gerard’s toes, and it tickles enough that Gerard squirms, warm and happy and drifting. 

“This was your idea,” Frank says and Gerard feels the movement as Mikey shrugs.

“Thought you needed this,” he says, like it was nothing special, and Frank hums. Gerard turns to watch as Frank reaches out, tangles his fingers in Mikey’s hair, tugs gently.

“Yeah,” Frank says. “I did.” He pauses, and Gerard feels his chest move as he breathes. “Thank you.”

Mikey makes a pleased noise and turns his head so he’s pressing his face to Frank’s hand. It’s comfortable and domestic, and Gerard lets himself drift for a bit, not concerned about time, or what’s happening. 

It’s Mikey who pulls away first, climbing up on the sofa next to Frank and pulling Gerard’s legs until they’re resting across his thighs. 

“I brought some clothes down for you,” he says, “when you feel ready for them.”

It’s typically Mikey – unobtrusive and thoughtful. Gerard reaches out to hold his hand, feeling very aware of just how lucky he is. 

“Thanks,” Gerard says, then: “Hey.” He waits till Mikey looks at him. “What do you want to do this afternoon?” 

Mikey purses his lips, considers the question as Frank traces an indecipherable pattern on the skin of Gerard’s hip. 

“Pizza?” he says at last, a hopeful note to his voice. “Could watch some DVDs?” 

“Sounds good,” Frank says. “You wanna call for the pizza then?”

“Sure.” Mikey fumbles for his phone while Frank helps Gerard up and passes him the sweatpants and t-shirt that Mikey had brought down for him. 

He waits until Gerard is dressed before he presses a kiss to Gerard’s lips. 

“Thank you,” Frank says, and Gerard shrugs, embarrassment flaring for the first time. 

“I enjoyed it,” he says, because it’s the truth, and Frank smiles at him, warm and relaxed. 

“You didn’t know that when you came down though.” He pauses, daring Gerard to deny it, and smiles when Gerard doesn’t. “You were brave, Gee. And I’m grateful.” 

“Hey.” Gerard loops his fingers into the belt loop on Frank’s jeans, using it to tug him closer. “You were brave too.” His mouth twists, mostly amused. “Guess we all have to be right now.” 

“Yeah.” Frank kisses him again, and this time Gerard kisses him back. “Worth it though.” 

“Damn right,” Mikey says from behind them, fiddling with the remote control until theme music floods the room. 

“Lord of the Rings?” Frank sounds horrified. “Who chose that?” 

“I did,” Mikey says smugly. “Cuz you seemed to be too busy to choose.” 

It starts an argument that leads to a cushion fight of epic proportions that’s only resolved when the doorbell rings and Mikey has to go and pay for the pizza. All in all, Gerard thinks, there are worse ways to spend a Sunday. 

—

It’s Wednesday and it’s raining outside, and Gerard is trying to make the current story arc he’s working on behave when his phone rings. 

It takes a second for him to find it – it always does when he’s concentrating on his work – but when he does he fumbles to answer it because it’s Mikey, and it’s a work day, and Mikey never calls from work.

“I need to talk to you both,” Mikey says, not bothering with unnecessary words like _hello_ or _how are you this afternoon, Gee_. “Tonight. Thought we could go out? Can you book somewhere to eat?”

“Yeah,” Gerard manages. “Sure. But… What’s up, Mikey? What’s happening?” 

“Things,” Mikey says, and Gerard’s stomach clenches in terror because Mikey was meant to be meeting with the CEO this morning to debrief after the project he headed up, and Frank had spent over an hour last night explaining to a horribly anxious Mikey that they could cope if he wanted to quit, that there was enough money, and it wouldn’t ruin Mikey’s career. 

“What things?” Gerard asks. “Mikey…”

“Can’t talk now,” Mikey says. “Got to go. And going to be late leaving here, so text me where you book? I’ll meet you there, okay?”

“Wait,” Gerard tries, but it’s too late. He’s talking to a dead line. He puts the phone down on his desk, his mouth a tight line, and tries to work out what to do. Frank is the obvious answer, but when Gerard tries calling him, it goes straight to voicemail, and he realizes that the phone must be off. 

He’s not sure what to do after that, so he books a restaurant – the Middle Eastern place they like, that does enough vegan food that Frank gets a choice off the menu – and texts Mikey to tell him it’s booked for 8pm. 

There’s no reply, no little row of dots to tell him that Mikey’s typing something. Eventually the screen goes dark and Gerard sits there, chewing the edge of his thumb, debating what to do.

In the end he looks up the number of Frank’s garage online. Frank would want to know about this – Gerard gets that, even though his hands are unusually clumsy when he types the number into his phone. 

“Full Effect Motors.” The man who answers the phone sounds bored. “This is James speaking. What can we do for you today?” 

“Hi, James.” Gerard swallows. His mouth is very dry all of a sudden. “Could I speak to Frank?” 

“Frank?” James sounds curious. “Sure. Who’s calling?” 

“Gerard,” he says, not sure how to quantify what he is to Frank. “I’m…”

“Gerard!” James says, like he recognises the name. “Of course! No worries. I’ll go get him for you now, dude.”

There’s a click as he puts the phone down, and the sounds of the garage in the background as James goes to get Frank. Gerard holds onto his phone so tightly his fingers are going numb. He’s counting his breaths, trying to keep his mind calm and blank while he waits for Frank to pick the phone up. 

He swears he can hear Frank’s footsteps before he hears his voice on the line, and his mind whites out slightly when Frank picks it up.

“James knows about me,” he says when Frank answers, and it’s not what he meant to say. He trails off, embarrassed. 

“Yeah.” Frank’s tone is careful, like he’s explaining something to a child. “You’re my partner, Gee. Of course I talk about you.”

“But Mikey…” _But they know about Mikey_ , he wants to say. _They’ll_ guess. _About Mikey and me_. He can’t though, just stops speaking, listens to the quiet rush of Frank’s breath on the other end of the line. 

“Being poly isn’t a crime,” Frank says at last. “And I’m not ashamed of what we’re doing.” He drops his voice. “I’m not ashamed of who _I_ am.” 

“Frank.” Gerard can’t keep the horror from his tone. “I don’t want you to be ashamed – I never thought you _were_ ashamed.” He takes a breath. “I’m sure as hell not ashamed of you.” He pauses, but Frank doesn't say anything. “I love you, Frankie. I thought you knew that.”

“Good.” Frank’s voice is steadier now, none of the suppressed emotion from earlier. “So, we both know where we stand, then.” He says it like a dare and Gerard nods, forgetting for a second that Frank can’t see him. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Frank says. “You got your own reasons for not wanting to share things. Just…” Gerard can imagine him shrugging. “I’m not going to not talk about my family – the people I love – to my friends because of how you feel.”

“Okay.” Gerard grins, because the thought of Frank being willing to acknowledge him, acknowledge their relationship makes him feel like there’s a bubble blowing up in his chest. 

“So…” Gerard can hear the smile in Frank’s voice, knows they’re both grinning like idiots right now. “Not that it isn’t good to hear from you, but what’s up? Are you okay?” 

“Oh.” For a second Gerard had forgotten that is was the middle of the work day, that they don’t tend to do this, that he had a reason for calling. “Mikey called me.”

“What?” Frank’s tone turns sharp. “Is he okay? What’s happened?”

“I don’t know and I think so?” Gerard shrugs. “He wouldn’t say. Just told me that he needed to talk to both of us tonight and asked me to book somewhere for us to eat.”

“You think he’s been fired?” Gerard can hear the anger welling up in Frank’s voice. “He had that meeting with the CEO today didn’t he? About that project he took over.” He huffs angrily. “I swear, if they’ve fired him because they didn't support him properly and he thinks I won’t get angry because we’re in public… he has another think coming.” 

“I know.” Gerard sighs. “I wish he’d just told me on the phone but…” He shrugs. “He’s Mikey, isn’t he?” That makes Frank chuckle softly and Gerard smiles in response. “I booked the Middle Eastern place you like. He’s going to meet us there. He said he’d be late.” He pauses, takes a breath. “I thought we could go over together?”

“Yeah.” Frank hums. “I’ve got a few things I need to finish here, but I’ll head home as soon as I can.” He pauses, realizing the assumptions he’s made. “Unless you’re busy?” 

“No,” Gerard says because there’s no way he’ll be able to concentrate now, and he can’t be bothered to deny that he wants to see Frank. “I’ll be here when you get home.” 

He tidies up the section he’s working on, jots a few notes down of where he thought the story might be going and heads downstairs. He’s still at a loose end though, can’t settle to anything, not even tidying up.

He doesn’t have long to wait, though. Frank’s opening the front door before he’s been downstairs five minutes and he walks straight in to Gerard and kisses him like he’s desperate for it. 

“Hey,” he says, when he finally pulls back. “Been thinking about that since you called.” He kisses Gerard again, gentle this time. “What are we going to do?” 

“About Mikey?” Gerard feels slightly kiss-drunk, and Frank is very warm under his hands. “Yeah. I guess we need to talk.” 

“Ugh.” Frank pulls an alarmed face. “Nothing good starts with that.”

Gerard grins at him. “First time for everything,” he says. “Want some coffee?” 

“If I must,” Frank says, but he’s smiling and his arm is around Gerard’s waist so Gerard knows they’re good. 

“Anyway,” he says as he puts the coffee on to brew. “I thought we agreed we love each other?”

“I never said that!” Frank’s eyes are wide with pretend horror, but his tone is light, amused, and Gerard mock boggles at him.

“You did!” he says, outrage dripping from every syllable. “I distinctly recall that you said…”

“Okay!” Frank pushes him into the work surface, kisses him. “I love you. Satisfied?”

“Kinda.” Gerard pushes a curl back off Frank’s face. “More kisses would help.”

“Oh, right.” Frank smiles against his mouth. “I know why you’re keeping me around.” He kisses Gerard. “It’s for my body, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” There’s something about Frank’s kisses that leave Gerard breathless, desperate for more. “That’s right. Your body.”

Frank chuckles and kisses him again, but when he pulls away, his face is serious. 

“I’m not going to keep you secret though,” he says. “Either of you.”

Gerard swallows, but he nods, even though he’s terrified. “What does that mean for me?”

Frank shrugs. “I want to go out in public with you. I’m going to tell my friends about you.” He touches Gerard’s face. “I won’t tell them that you’re with Mikey, but I’m not going to pretend I’m not with you both.” 

“And what do you want from me?” There’s a note of terror to Gerard’s voice that he doesn’t even try to hide. 

“For you to hold my hand?” Frank’s mouth twists, like he’s embarrassed to ask. “I’d like to meet your friends too, but not if you don’t want that.”

He’s asking for so little, Gerard realizes. So very little. 

“What about my family?” he asks, because in a lot of ways this is the thing that scares him most. “You want to meet them?”

“Um.” Frank blinks at him. “I already did? You remember?”

And Gerard does. Frank and Donna at Christmas lunch are a combination no one could forget in a hurry. 

“Not as my boyfriend though.”

“You’d do that?” Frank blinks at him. “That’s gonna raise questions.”

“We can answer them.” Gerard closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths against the panic that has its claws in him. “They don’t have to know about me and Mikey.”

“You don’t think you’ll ever tell people about him?” The words are gentle, but Gerard shakes his head, his teeth gritted because he doesn’t have the words for this. “You’re not doing anything wrong, you know.”

“I wish I could.” Gerard can’t keep the longing from his voice. “You think I want Mikey believing he’s my grubby little secret? But…” He looks at Frank, willing him to understand. “If we go out here, people will see us. The area’s too small. And our friends will find out. And if our friends know then out, our family will get to know…” He breaks off, not able to vocalise the fear properly, just knowing his life would be over if they were found out. 

“Hey.” Frank strokes his back. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell anyone about you and Mikey if you don’t want.” He tips Gerard’s face so they’re looking at each other. “You don’t even have to tell people about me if you think it will make it difficult.”

“No.” The word is out before Gerard can think about it. “I want to, Frank. I’m not ashamed of you – I’m not ashamed of either of you. I want people to know about us, and…” He pauses. Takes a deep breath. “If they ask questions? Fuck ‘em. They don’t get to know what we do behind closed doors.”

“That’s my boy,” Frank says, warm and proud. “And we can do this as slowly as you want, Gee. You know that.”

“Thanks.” Gerard rests his forehead on Frank’s and lets himself just breathe for a second. 

“But…” Frank looks up at him. “There is one thing I’d like?”

“Anything,” Gerard says, because Frank is giving and giving here, is nothing but compromises, and Gerard _owes_ him. 

“I’d like to go on holiday,” Frank says. “Somewhere away from here. Where you and Mikey can be together in public and I can be with you both and no one will care.”

It’s such a huge compromise that it leaves Gerard breathless – not least because he can’t believe he’s never thought of it. 

“Sure,” he says, already thinking about locations, ideas. “That would be amazing, Frank.”

—

Frank looks fantastic in a suit. 

It’s something that most people probably don’t know, but those people, Gerard thinks, are missing out. 

He can’t tear his eyes away from Frank now as they sit on opposite sides of the table in the restaurant, sipping mint tea and making polite small talk that is a polite front for all the things Gerard thinks they want to say. 

Frank seems to be nervous. The whole time he has a hand in the pocket of his suit jacket, fiddling with something, even when they’re discussing the advantages and disadvantages of road trips as holidays compared to, say, all inclusive breaks in the Caribbean or cruises. 

“Seriously?” Frank says. “You really think that touring Man versus Food venues compares to _Barbados_?” 

“Yes!” Gerard mock glares at him. “Do you know how homophobic some of those places are?”

“Point,” Frank says, sounding thoughtful. “But I still think…” 

“Well.” Mikey’s voice is a lazy, satisfied drawl. “Don’t you two scrub up nice.”

“Mikes!” Frank is on his feet straight away, kissing Mikey’s cheek. “You’re here.”

“Yep.” Mikey smiles at them, walks around to his seat, trailing his fingers over Gerard’s shoulders on the way. “Sorry I’m late.” He sits down, pours himself a glass of the tea and reaches for the bowl of sugar cubes. “You do both look amazing though.”

“Never mind about that,” Frank says, his tone edging on snappy. “What’s happened?”

“What? I’m not allowed a moment of drama?” Mikey asks, faux innocent.

“Not when you’ve worried both of us all afternoon,” Frank says. “Spit it out, Mikey, or we will have words.”

Mikey grins, shaking his head, but Gerard can see he’s barely controlling his excitement and he feels most of his tension dissipate. 

“Mikey?” He pitches his voice low, leans forward. “If you think we won’t work together to punish you, you are sadly mistaken.” He stares at Mikey, daring him to break eye contact, and Mikey’s eyes go dark, the color rising on his cheeks. 

“Fine.” Mikey sags back in his chair. “Ruin my moment. See if I care.” 

“You’re still not saying.” Frank’s voice is low and dangerous but he’s caught the change in mood, and Gerard doesn’t think he’s afraid any more. 

“I got a promotion,” Mikey says, and his tone is neutral but his eyes are gleaming with pride. “The CEO brought me in and said she’d seen what I’d done and that she knows I didn’t have much support and…” he shrugs. “They promoted me.” 

“Mikey!” Gerard hugs him, hard and awkward around the table. “That’s brilliant.”

“You deserve it,” Frank says, gruff but with a tiny smile on his lips. “You did really well with that project.”

“Maybe.” Mikey’s blushing, but he can’t hide how pleased he is. “Couldn’t have done it without you though.” 

He reaches out and takes both their hands just as the server arrives.

“You ready to order?” he asks, and Gerard has to fight not to move his hand. 

But Mikey feels the twitch of Gerard’s hand and his mouth twists down. He starts to pull away, and Gerard suddenly remembers everything he and Frank talked about this afternoon. He catches Mikey’s hand before he can withdraw it, holds it tight. 

“Can we have the mezze to start?” he asks. “The vegan one. And for the main, can I share the lamb tagine with my boyfriend? And…” He looks at Frank and squares his shoulders. “My partner will have the chickpea tagine. That’s vegan, right?”

“Yeah.” The server gins at him, peppy and upbeat and like Gerard hasn’t just rocked his own world to its core. “Good choices.” He leans in and winks at Frank. “The chef does this great vegan chocolate mousse. Should I warn him to whip some up?”

“That’d be great,” Frank says, and grins as he walks away. 

“So.” Mikey raises an eyebrow, the master of minimalist expression as always. “That was a thing.”

“Yeah.” Gerard looks down at the table cloth, shrugs. “Frank and I were talking this afternoon, and I been thinking that maybe I’ve been being a bit stupid…” He can feel the blush heating his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said anything to him without checking with you first, Mikes. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Mikey sounds sure. “Been wondering if we’d ever get to this point.” 

“I should never have made you feel like I was ashamed of you. Like you were a secret I had to keep. I just never wanted you to feel tied to me.” He looks at Mikey, meeting his eyes even though he’s terrified of what he’ll see there. “I want – I always wanted you to be with me because you wanted to be, not because you didn’t realize you had other options, or because I’d done something that you weren’t able to back down from.”

Mikey’s lips twist. “I appreciate that,” he says at last. “And I guess it worked out for the best.” He looks at his other hand, where Frank’s fingers are laced with his. “Don’t know what I’d do without Frankie.” 

“That’s lucky.” Frank sounds unaccountably nervous. “Cuz I got something for you.” He closes his eyes for a second, takes a deep breath. “Thought maybe you’d quit the job. Wanted you to know you weren’t on your own.”

He’s been fiddling with something in his pocket all evening, but now he pulls his hand free and puts a box, slightly bigger than his palm, flat and black, on the table. 

“What is it?” Mikey asks and Gerard doesn’t know the answer to that, but he can hazard a guess and there’s something perilously close to despair suddenly coiling in his gut. 

Mikey’s hands are shaking as he opens the box and his breath catches when he looks inside. 

“Is this…?”

“Yes,” Frank says. “If you want to wear it.”

“Gee.” Mikey’s face is open, delighted as he holds the box out. “Look.”

“Oh wow,” Gerard says as he tries to school his face into something believably happy, and reaches out to take the box. He feels sick. Wonders whether he can make an excuse and get out of here. 

It’s exactly what he feared – a short linked necklace, just long enough to sit under the collar of Mikey’s shirts if he wants to hide it. There is a tag, like the name tag for a dog’s collar on one of the front links, and Gerard flicks it over so he can read it, pretending an interest he is very far from feeling.

When he does though, his breath catches and he freezes. _Hi_ , it says. _My name’s Mikey. If I’m lost, please contact my owners, Frank and Gerard._

“You included me,” he says and Mikey’s jaw drops as Frank eyes get wide with horror. 

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Frank asks, his voice low. “You thought I would give Mikey a collar in front of you and not include you?”

“No,” Gerard lies, then, “yes.” He looks up, his mouth twisting. “Sorry. I just thought this was _your_ thing with Mikey.” Frank’s still staring at him like he doesn’t understand. “You never mentioned it to me.” 

“Oh.” Frank blinks at him. “You’re right. I should have told you.” He looks utterly chagrined. “Gee, I’m sorry. I just thought…” He breaks off and huffs out a laugh. “I guess I didn’t think.” 

“No,” Gerard says, but he’s flooded with relief now and even though there’s the lingering bitterness of anger at his own distrust, he doesn’t care. “Frank… It’s perfect. I love it.”

“Isn’t that meant to be my line?” Mikey asks, his tone arch, and Frank grins at him. 

“Maybe you’re missing the point,” he says, his voice playful. “Maybe you’re the engagement ring I’m offering Gee.” 

“Really?” Mikey doesn’t sound disturbed by that – if anything he sounds intrigued. “I am?” 

“Dunno.” Frank’s blushing for some reason and Gerard can’t tear his eyes away from his face. “I mean…” He looks up at Gerard, his eyes terrified, but he’s brave and beautiful and bold. “What do you say, Gee?” He swallows. “Will you?” 

Gerard closes his eyes, overwhelmed, but Mikey’s hand is still warm in his, anchoring him, and there’s really only one answer he can give. 

“Yes,” he says, small enough that he’s not sure Frank will be able to hear him over the noise of the restaurant but Frank’s breath catches and Gerard _knows_ he heard. “Fuck it. Yes.” 

He says it louder this time, and he opens his eyes to see the naked delight on Frank’s face, the more restrained happiness on Mikey’s face. 

“Yes,” he says again.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as 5k of puppy play crack and ended up as an in depth exploration of what it means to fall in love and be a partner and be kinky and have mental health issues. 
> 
> I would never have written this without the unfailing support and enthusiasm Jiksa gave me. It’s a more personal piece than I usually choose to write, and she gave me the courage to keep writing and the motivation to finally post it rather than leaving it to gather dust in gdocs.


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